m 


FROM   THE  LIBRARY  OF 
REV.    LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.   D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


INvMoa  "  S 


C    ■  ^ 


909-1709 


ils  filled  by  a  favoringr  breeze, sailed  over 
ae  bar  and  out  into  the  ocean,  bound  lor 
Tew  York,  with  the  apostle  of  the  new 
lith  on  board. 

Murray  soon  returned  to  the  home  of  his 
riend  and  remained  there  several  months, 
■  reaching  In  the  meeting  house  every  Sun- 
ay.  Later  he  took  a  trip  to  New  Eng- 
md,  where  he  founded,  and  for  many 
ears  remained  pastor  of,  a  church  in 
loucester,  Mass.— the  first  organized  Uni- 
ersalist  Church  In  America.  It  was  at 
Gloucester,  in  1870,  that  the  Murray  Cen- 
bnnlal  was  celebrated,  more  than  17,000 
:3ople  being  present,  including  most  of  the 
U'orninent  men  of  the  denomination,  con- 
■  iuous  among  them  being  Horace  Gree- 
and  his  famous  pastor,  the  Rev.  Dr. 
IWIn  H.  Chapin,  besides  numerous  other 
uci  of  nearly  equkl  note. 
-•I  Tlie  Memorial  Cliurcli. 

•O'ter  Potter's  death  it  vras  found  that 
'i'^  meeting  house,  together  with  several 
*^s  of  adjacent  land,  had  been  deeded 
^Murray,  but  in  the  absence  of  the  lega- 
^00(the  property  was  seized  and  sold  for 
"Uo  satisfy  an  alleged  claim  on  the  es- 
PI'.  Its  successor,  a  small  frame  build- 
^®  partially  constructed  of  the  old  ma- 
1,   is  now  In  the  hands  of  the  Meth- 


^^Us.  Near  at  hand  is  a  handsome  Gothic 

"^pel    of   pressed    brick;    erected    by    the 

"^  versalists  of  America  and  dedicated  In 

^  as    the    Potter    Memorial    Church.    It 

^Sn    the    lawn    in    front    of   this    church 

^1^^.^.^^   memorial   has   been   erected.     A 

/  •  ^--^--i    rvwned  and  man- 

^  -'-^Hon, 


*ju9iiioi;;os  JO  ss9oojd  ui  avou  soi^jQdojd' 
puB  '-IS  p^ojg  q;jojs[  gn  P^^  III  P^^  mnoS;^ 
'8e  '9£  *te  '01  -'IS  WP^l  ^l^OM  OZ  -'IS  Wi 
m^\R  m-^ON  01^  P^^  l£  -'s^S  l-i^qilJ  Pu^  ^Juri 
t'ls  mqSiH  WON  01^  Pu^  m^^S  LZZ  P^^  ZZ  '9  \\ 

nZT   DUB  QTT    'OTT     i  *l!s    IlUnO^^    mHOg    9£l     ty 


THE    LIFE 


REV.  JOHN  MURRAY, 


xtmhx  d  WinxbtxsRl  Sanation* 


WRITTEN   BY   HIMSELF. 


WITH  A  CONTINUATION,  BY  MRS.  JUDITH  SARGENT  MURRAY. 


A    NEW  EDITION, 

"^iVTTH  Aisr  i:isrTRor>xjCTio:x  A:N"r>  iStotes, 

By  rev.  g.  l.  demarest. 


BOSTON: 
UNIVERSALIST     PUBLISHING    HOUSE, 

18%. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1869,  by  the 

UxiVERSALisT  Publishing  House, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  District  of  MassachusettH 


CONTENTS. 


Introduction 8 


CHAPTER  I. 

An  account  of  the  author's  birth  and  parentage,  with  succeeding  event* 
until  the  decease  of  his  father 15 


CHAPTER   II. 
Record  continued  until  the  author's  departure  from  Ireland  .       .        •       70 

CHAPTER  III. 

Arrivalin  England,  and  further  progress  of  the  in€a?peri€ncedfrat;cZZer     .      101 

CHAPTER   IV. 

The  author  becomes  a  happy  husband,  a  happy  father.  He  embraces  the 
"  truth,  as  it  is  in  Jesus, ^^  and  from  this  and  other  combining  causes  he 
is  involved  in  great  difficulties.  Death  deprives  him  of  his  infant  son 
and  wedded  friend,  and  he  is  overtaken  by  a  series  of  calamities     .        .      *43 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  bereaved  man,  quitting  his  native  shores,  embarks  for  America,  in- 
dulging the  fond  hope  of  sequestering  himself  in  the  solitude  for  which 
he  sighed.  But,  contrary  to  his  expectations,  a  series  of  circumstances 
unite  to  make  him  a  promulgator  of  the  gospel  of  God  our  Saviour         .      l?fi 

Til 


rV  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   VI. 
Record  continued  from  September,  1770,  to  the  winter  of  1774       .       .       .     213 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Summary  record  of  events  from  January,  1775,  to  October,  1809   .       .       .311 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Record  continued  from  October,  1809,  to  September,  1815,  including  the 

vlosing  scene .371 

CHAPTER   IX. 
Conclusion ..380 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Portrait  of  Rev.  John  Murray ,       .       .  t 

The  Potter  Meeting  House 206 

First  Church  in  Gloucester 314 

First  Church  in  Boston 338 

The  Grave  «f  Murray          ....               .••...  405 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  original  edition  of  the  following  work  appeared  in 
8vo,  in  the  year  1816.  The  interest  of  the  work  secured 
for  it  a  rapid  sale,  and  demanded  frequent  republication. 
Several  editions  appeared  before  1833,  in  which  3^ear  Rev. 
Thomas  Whittemore  reproduced  it,  with  annotations  and 
additions,  in  letter-press,  and  a  stereotype  edition  was  also 
published,  under  the  editorial  care  of  Rev.  L.  S.  Everett. 
The  former  edition  was  soon  exhausted  ;  the  latter  continued 
to  supply  a  steady  demand  until  within  a  few  j^ears,  when 
by  a  mistaken,  perhaps  fortunate,  judgment,  the  plates 
were  broken  up,  sold  as  old  t^^pe-metal,  and  cast  into  the 
melting-pot.  Both  of  the  last-named  editions  were  com- 
pactl}^  printed  to  secure  cheapness.  It  is  peculiarly  meet 
that  an  edition  worthy  of  the  subject  should  now  appear 
on  the  eve  of  the  centenary  of  American  Universalism, 
which  dates  historically  from  the  appearance  of  the  provi- 
dential man  the  story  of  whose  life  is  here  related. 

The  basis  of  this  edition  is  that  of  Mr.  Whittemore. 
In  his  preface,  he  says :  "  I  flatter  myself  that  the  various 
emendations  which  I  have  made  will  enhance  the  value  of 
the  work  to  the  public.  In  some  cases  I  have  supplied 
dates  where  they  were  wanting ;  in  some  I  liave  given  the 
full  name  for  the  initials,  and  made  other  alterations  of  a 
like   character.     But   the   text,  with  a  few  verbal   excep- 


b  INTRODUCTION, 

tions,  is  preserved  as  it  was  in  the  original  edition.  .  .  . 
I  have  endeavored,  also,  to  enhance  the  value  of  the  work 
by  the  addition  of  a  large  body  of  notes.  I  had  many 
facts  in  my  possession,  belonging  clearl}^  to  the  biography 
of  Mr.  Murray,  that  had  not  been  incorporated  into,  his 
'Letters  and  Sketches,'  nor  into  an}'  edition  of  his  'Life.'" 
Such  of  Mr.  Whittemore's  notes  and  additions  as  were 
contributions  to  the  biography  of  the  subject  we  have  re- 
tained ;  others  we  have  rejected,  not  for  lack  of  interest, 
but  for  want  of  room  and  appropriateness.  We  have  also 
omitted  several  documentary  items  which  were  not  need- 
ful to  the  general  purpose  of  the  biography.  And  we  may 
state  here  that  the  pictures,  in  this  volume,  of  the  churches 
associated  with  Mr.  Murra3^'s  life,  are  perfect  representa- 
tions of  the  originals,  even  to  the  details,  and  can  be 
relied  upon  as  historically  correct. 

It  will  be  observed  that  the  first  six  chapters  of  the 
volume  are  autobiographical.  In  Mr.  Whittemore's  words, 
"The  seventh,  eighth,  and  ninth  chapters  of  the  work 
were  written  by  Mr.  Murray's  widow,  a  woman  of  unques- 
tioned talent.  Her  disposition  in  regard  to  the  things  of 
this  world  was  altogether  different  from  his  ;  nor  was  she 
able  to  suppress,  a  lamentation,  which  appears  in  the 
seventh  chapter,  that  he  did  not  avail  himself  of  the 
opportunities  oflfered  him  to  accumulate  wealth.  She 
removed  several  3'ears  since,  with  au  only  daughter  and  a 
griindcliild,  to  one  of  the  south-western  States.  They  are 
now  all  deceased ;  and  not  a  descendant  of  Mr.  Mur- 
ra}'  is  on  the  earth."  It  was  evidenth'  by  Mrs.  Murra3''s 
''  earnest  solicitations,"  that  the  autobiography  was  under- 
taken. We  quote  her  original  preface,  which  boars  date 
May  2,  1816  :   ''  The  pages  which  compose  the  volume  now 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

presented  to  the  public,  were  originally  designed  only  for 
the  eye  of  a  tender  and  beloved  friend.  They  were 
written  at  the  earnest  request  of  one  to  whom  the  author 
was  endeared  by  many  years  of  intimate  friendship,  and 
still  more  by  those  divine  and  soul-soothing  tenets,  of 
which  it  was  his  distinguished  lot  to  be  ordained  the  pro- 
mulgator. For  those,  who,  like  this  individual,  have 
dwelt  with  rapture  upon  the  blessed  assurance  of  the 
boundless  and  enduring  love  of  a  redeeming  God,  as  pow- 
erfully exhibited  hy  those  lips  which  rarely  opened  but  to 
expatiate  upon  the  glad  tidings  which  was  the  theme  of 
the  angelic  song ;  for  those  who  loved  the  philanthropic, 
the  inspired  preacher,  for  the  sake  of  the  glorious  inspira- 
tion,—  these  sheets  will  possess  the  strongest  and  most 
important  interest ;  to  such,  and  to  such  only,  they  are 
addressed.  It  is  in  compliance  with  their  solicitations 
that  they  are  sent  into  the  world ;  and  it  is  not  even  ex- 
pected that  those  who  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  his  consolatory 
message,  and  who  knew  not  the  powers  of  his  mighty 
mind,  or  the  pure  and  exalted  benevolence  of  his  heart, 
will  have  any  interest  in  inquiring,  '  What  manner  of  man 
was  he  who  told  these  things,  or  what  spirit  was  he  of? ' " 

Mr.  Murray  narrates  in  detail  the  circumstances  of  his 
first  marriage  and  of  his  bereavement.  To  the  second, 
Mrs.  Murra}'  only  thus  incidentally  alludes,  at  the  time 
she  notices  the  considerations  which  induced  the  removal 
from  Gloucester  to  Boston :  "  He  had  himself  again  be- 
come the  head  of  a  family."  In  the  "  United  States 
Chronicle,"  of  October  16,  1788,  appeared  the  following 
notice:  "Married,  at  Salem,  Mass.,  October  — ,  1788, 
Mr.  John  Murray,  of  Gloucester,  Pastor  of  the  Universal 
Society  there,  to    Mrs.  Judith    Stevens,   of   that   place." 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

Mrs.  Stevens  was  the  daughter  of  Capt.  Winthrop  Sar- 
gent, one  of  Mr.  Murray's  stanchest  Gloucester  friends. 
Her  literary  gifts  were,  for  the  time,  distinguished  ;  and 
the  very  traditions  which  suggest  her  strength  of  will  and 
energetic  character  also  indicate  her  deep  affection  and 
profound  veneration  for  her  husband,  and  her  earnest  in- 
terest in  the  doctrines  which  he  preached  and  she  had  cor- 
dially adopted.  Mr.  Murray — if  we  can  judge  by  his 
confidential  letters  to  English  correspondents,  not  merely 
by  occasional  expressions,  but  by  the  frequency  and  extent 
of  his  allusions  —  reciprocated  her  love,  and  took  pride  in 
her  gifts.  Mr.  Whittemore's  allusion  to  her  "disposition," 
already  quoted,  suggests  her  needful  counterpoise  to  her 
husband's  disregard  of  all  financial  considerations ;  not 
serving  to  destroy  Mr.  Murray's  liberal  feeling,  or  even 
indicating  her  own  want  of  generosity,  but  securing  due 
prudence  in  the  famil}^  economj^,  and  in  all  probability 
aiding  in  keeping  "the  wolf"  at  bay  during  the  long 
season  of  Mr.  Murray's  helplessness. 

While  we  are  interested  in  the  traditions  which  give 
glimpses  of  Mrs.  Murra3^'s  disposition  to  rule,  and  her 
strength  of  purpose,  we  infer  from  what  we  know  of  her 
the  possession  of  strong  affectional  magnetism,  as  well  ag 
of  masculine  energy  and  intellect.  She  was  a  faithful 
wife  and  a  help  truly  meet  for  Mr.  Murray.  The  incident 
related  in  Mr.  Whittemore's  "Life  of  Rev.  Hosea  Ballou," 
suggests  her  earnest  reverence  for  her  husband's  faith  and 
opinions.  Mr.  Ballou  had  been  preaching  during  Mr. 
Murray's  absence,  in  Philadelphia,  in  1798  or  1799,  from 
the  pulpit  of  the  latter.  On  the  last  Sunday  of  his  en- 
gagement he  gave  his  views  of  1  Cor.  xv.  26-28,  present- 
ii.<2^  the  evident  doctrine  of  the  text,  that  Christ    is    the 


lyTRODUCTION.  » 

Son  who  is  to  deliver  up  tlie  kingdom  to  God  the  Father. 
Mrs.  Murray,  and  Mr.  Murray,  too,  believed,  we  think 
ver}'  absnrdl3\  "that  the  Son  who  is  to  deliver  up  the 
kingdom  to  the  Father  was  the  '  Son  of  perdition,'  and 
that  God  would  finally  succeed  in  getting  the  kingdom  out 
of  his  hands."  Through  Mrs.  Murray's  suggestion,  '-Just 
as  Mr.  Ballon  arose  to  announce  the  lu'mn,"  a  gentleman 
announced  from  the  singing-seats  ''  in  substance  as  fol- 
lows ;  '  I  wish  to  give  notice  that  the  doctrine  which  has 
been  preached  here  this  afternoon  is  not  the  doctrine  which 
is  usually  preached  in  this  house.'"  Mr.  Ballou's  reply, 
3'oung  as  he  was,  was  characteristically  calm:  "The 
audience  will  please  to  take  notice  of  what  our  brother 
has  said;"  and  he  proceeded  to  close  the  services.  Mrs. 
Murray  may  have  been,  as  Mr.  Whittemore  says,  "  an 
uneasy  spirit ; "  but  we  confess  we  respect  her  conjugal 
consideration  and  her  spii'itual  earnestness,  if  not  her 
uneasiness. 

We  have  before  us  a  work  in  three  volumes,  bearing  the 
imprint,  "  Printed  at  Boston,  b^^  I.  Thomas  and  E.  T.  An- 
drews, Faust's  Statue,  No.  45  Newbury  Street,  February, 
1798,"  entitled  "  The  Gleaner :  a  Miscellaneous  Produc- 
tion, by  Constantia."  The  volumes  are  a  collection  of 
assays,  a  portion  of  which  were  first  contributed  to  a 
monthl}^  mngnzine,  and  for  the  purpose  of  tliis  publica- 
tion were  supplemented  by  essays  of  like  character.  "  Con- 
stantia" w^as  Mrs.  Murray.  Her  volumes  were  published 
by  subscription  ;  and  after  the  method  of  the  last  centur}' 
the  names  of  subscribers  appear  as  an  appendix  to  the  last 
volume.  Mrs.  ^Mui-ra}'  had  evidently  acquired  reputation 
b}'  her  published  essays  ;  for  the  number  of  subscribers  ob- 
tained before  publication   exceeds   eight  hundred.     These 


10  INTRODUCTION. 

include  many  notable  names:  "George  Washington,  late 
Commander-in-Chief  of  the  American  Forces,  and  President 
of  the  United  States,  Mount  Vernon  (Virg.)  "  with  Mrs. 
M.  Washington  ;  "  John  Adams,  LL.D.,  President  of  the 
United  States  ;  "  Increase  Sumner,  Governor  of  Massachu- 
setts ;  John  Taj'lor  Gilman,  Governor  of  New  Hampshire  ; 
Gen.  Knox  ;  Gen.  Lincoln  ;  Rev.  Dr.  Belknap,  Dr.  Clarke, 
Dr.  Eliot,  Mr.  Freeman,  Dr.  Howard,  Mr.  Kirkland,  Dr. 
Lathrop,  Dr.  Morse,  Dr.  Thatcher,  and  other  clergymen  ; 
"  Capt.  W.  H.  Harrison,  N.  W.  Territory ;  "  and  others 
prominent  not  only  in  their  day,  but  leaving  some  trace 
upon  the  history  of  our  land.  Mrs.  Murraj-'s  style  par- 
takes of  the  peculiarities  of  the  time  in  which  she  wrote ; 
but  she  exhibits  both  thought  and  descriptive  power  and 
grace.  With  some  magniloquence  is  combined  an  attrac- 
tive smoothness,  which  even  now  makes  the  reading  pleas- 
ant. We  meet  suggestions,  in  advance  of  the  da}^,  as  to 
imprisonment  for  debt,  the  equal  capabilities  of  the  sexes, 
etc. 

The  fact  may  be  interesting,  in  addition  to  that  stated 
above,  concerning  the  descendants  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Murray, 
that  Mr.  AVinthrop  Sargent,  of  Philadelphia,  is  a  grandson 
of  Mrs.  Murray's  father,  and  consequent!}^  her  nephew ; 
while  Dr.  Worcester,  of  Salem,  is,  through  his  mother, 
Capt.  Sargent's  great  grandson.  Mrs.  Sargent,  Mrs.  Mur- 
ray's mother,  died  in  July,  1793  ;  Capt.  Sargent,  in  Decem- 
ber of  the  same  j^ear. 

With  reference  to  the  autobiographical  portion  of  this 
volume,  Mr.  Whittemore  aptly  says :  "  In  perusing  the 
following  pages,  the  reader  should  bear  continually  in  rec- 
ollection, that  Mr.  Murray  was  a  man  of  warm  and  ardent 
mind,  a  rich  and  glowing  fancy,  and   of  a  heart  of  stern 


INTRODUCTION.  11 

integrity.  These  circumstances  will  serve  to  account  for 
whatever  there  is  in  this  work  of  a  marvellous  character. 
It  cannot  be  more  truly  said  of  any  man  than  of  him,  that 
he  saw  the  hand  of  God  in  all  the  events  of  his  life  ;  and 
whatever  occurred  in  his  course  of  a  wonderful  nature,  his 
firm  belief  in  the  divine  supervision  of  human  affairs  led 
him  to  regard  at  once  as  a  particular  providence."  It  was 
this  faith  which  led  Mr.  Murray  so  long  to  resist  the  im- 
portunity of  his  Gloucester  friends  to  settle  with  them  as  a 
parish  minister.  He  deemed  his  dut}^  to  be  that  of  a  mis- 
sionary, and  his  living  to  be  that  which  came  to  him,  not 
by  specific  agreement,  but  by  offerings  of  free-will.  It  i& 
matter  of  thankfulness  that  his  first  impression  of  duty  was 
overruled  b}^  providential  circumstances.  Thus  he  became 
the  father  because  the  organizer  of  Universalism  in  Amer- 
ica ;  and  thus  the  year  1870,  one  hundred  years  from  the 
era  of  Mr.  Murray's  advent  to  the  United  States,  becomes 
its  centenary. 

There  were  traces  of  Universalism  already  in  the  coun- 
iry.  Some,  perhaps  most,  of  his  early  colleagues,  received 
their  opinions  independenth^  of  him.  But  the  societies 
which  formed  the  nucleus  of  the  Universalist  denomination 
were  organized  and  knit  together  by  him.  His  spirit  of 
fraternit}'^  pervaded  them,  and  his  apostolic  manner  and 
his  fervid  eloquence  inspired  them  with  courage  and  faith. 
Rev.  Robert  Redding,  one  of  his  English  friends,  and  a 
Baptist  minister  in  Cornwall,  thus  wrote,  in  1788,  concern- 
ing the  impression  made  by  his  preaching  :  "  I  have  been 
favored  the  past  week  with  a  visit  from  a  Mr.  Murray,  of 
the  United  States  of  America.  In  person,  of  the  middling 
height,  with  a  speaking  countenance  and  masculine  feat- 
ures, natarall}^  rough  and  stern.     His  mind  truly  great  and 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

noble,  stored  with  good  sense.  He  has  a  poetical  imagina* 
tion,  a  retentive  memor}^  warm  affections,  a  love  for  all 
mankind,  but  in  a  particular  manner  for  those  who  are  of  a 
sincerely  religious  turn  of  mind.  In  his  public  discourses 
he  displa3'ed  no  art  or  affectation.  He  opened  the  Scriptures 
in  their  natural  order,  or  without  any  formal  scholastic 
division.  He  delivered  his  discourses  with  great  grace  of 
oratory,  but  not  without  something  theatrical  in  his  man- 
ner. He  varied  the  tone  of  his  voice,  and  was  able,  in  a 
-certain  degree,  to  personate,  and  thus  second  his  descrip- 
tion of  any  character.  He  had  an  astonishing  volubility,  a 
very  good  choice  of  words,  a  great  variety  of  expression, 
and  adorned  his  sermons  with  quotations  from  flowery  and 
apposite  lines  of  the  poets.  He  excited  the  passions,  and 
fixed  the  attention  of  his  audience  to  such  a  degree  that 
he  could  arouse  and  animate  them  at  pleasure,  or  depress 
them,  with  a  peculiarly  soft  eloquence,  even  to  tears.  Yet 
with  all  this  power  and  superior  qualification  for  the  pulpit, 
he  seemed  at  times  to  forget  the  plainest  rules  of  grammar. 
He  had  no  accurate  mode  of  arranging  his  thoughts. 
Sometimes  he  became  low,  and  even  puerile  in  expression, 
as  well  as  fanciful  in  his  mode  of  treating  the  Scriptures, 
turning  them  from  their  received  meaning,  and  dealing  too 
much  in  allegorical  illustrations.  Yet,  with  all  this,  I  never 
yet  met  with  any  one  in  the  pulpit,  who  so  very  soon  car- 
ried awa}'  m}'  feelings." 

Rev.  Nathaniel  Stacy,  not  long  since  deceased,  full  of 
years  and  of  goodness,  was  present  at  the  session  of  the 
General  Convention  of  1804,  in  Sturbridge,  and  there 
heard  ISIr.  Murray  deliver  two  discourses.  He  says  :  "  It 
was  interesting,  indeed,  to  me,  to  see  and  hear  Mr.  Mur- 
ray.    I  had  heard  ray  parents  often  speak  of  him  after  they 


INTRODUCTION.  1^ 

boldl}^  avowed  their  faith  in  Universalism,  and  describe 
the  manner  of  his  preaching,  and  I  had  imbibed  a  high  ven- 
eration for  the  man,  and  had  a  strong  desire  to  hear  the 
word  of  truth  from  his  lips ;  nor  were  mj^  anticipations  dis- 
appointed. His  manner,  to  me,  was  pleasing,  and  his  elo- 
quence captivating.  He  appeared  to  possess  a  perfect 
government  over  his  own  passions  ;  riveted  the  attention 
of  his  hearers  ;  carried  them  with  him  through  his  whole 
discourse,  and  made  them  feel  the  sensibilities  of  his  own 
soul ;  would  bring  tears  into  their  eyes,  or  excite  their 
risibilitj^  with  as  much  ease  as  the  words  flowed  from  his 
opening  lips." 

Mr.  Murray's  peculiar  opinions  were  not  of  a  character  to- 
secure  a  permanent  hold  of  the  public  mind,  or  largely  ta 
affect  a  thinking  people.  They  are  sufficiently  outlined  by 
Mrs.  Murray,  in  her  last  chapter.  Thej^  were  shared 
among  preachers,  as  she  concedes,  at  the  time  of  her  hus- 
band's death,  only  b}^  Rev.  John  Tyler,  Episcopal  ministei 
in  Norwich,  Conn.,  and  Rev.  Edward  Mitchell,  of  the  city 
of  New  York.  It  is  probable  that  no  living  man  or  woman 
now  entertains  them,  in  their  wholeness.  But  the  doctrine 
of  the  Father's  universal  love,  the  universality  of  Christian 
salvation,  and  the  harmony  of  holiness  and  happiness, 
which  he  preached,  has  leavened  the  religious  mind  of  the 
age.  It  has  compelled  recognition  and  respect  where  it 
has  not  found  hospitality^ ;  and  while  a  large  and  growing 
body  of  Christians  hold  it  fast  as  their  watchword  and  con- 
fidence, it  is  modifying  the  opinions  and  softening  the  feel- 
ing of  great  numbers  who  do  not  profess  faith  in  it.  Mr. 
Murray  found  in  the  country  two  or  three  separated  preach- 
ers of  the  Universal  Restoration  ;  in  1813,  just  before  his 
death,  the  records  name  fort}'  ministers  as  in  the  fellowship 


14  INTRODUCTION. 

of  the  denomination  of  Universalists.  Of  the  forty,  there 
survives  only  the  venerable  Russell  Streeter.  The  rest 
have  departed ;  but  the  number  of  preachers  of  the  univer- 
sal efficacy  of  the  mission  of  Christ  has  increased  to  five 
hundred  and  ninety -two.  These,  with  various  success,  con- 
tinue to  proclaim  the  glad  tidings  of  universal  grace  ;  a;id 
the  recent  evidences  of  generous  zeal  in  the  endowment  of 
educational  institutions,  and  in  contributions  for  mission- 
ary work,  warrant  large  confidence  in  the  future  of  this 
branch  of  the  church  of  Christ.  We  indulge  the  fervent 
hope  that  the  Centenary  of  American  Universalism  will 
witness  a  liberal  oflfering,  in  testimony  of  thanksgiving  for 
the  inspiration  which  called  John  Murray  to  be  the  apostle 
of  truth,  and  has  breathed  upon  the  land  through  his  col- 
leagues and  successors.  G.  L.  D. 


LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  MURRAY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

CONTAINING  AN  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  AUTHOR'S  BIRTH  AND  PARENT- 
AGE   UNTIL    THE    DECEASE    OF    HIS    FATHER. 

How  sweetly  rolled  over  the  morning  of  life  I 
How  free  from  vexation,  from  sorrow  and  strife  I 
Kind  nature  presented  rich  scenes  to  my  view, 
And  every  scene  she  presented  was  new. 

But  soon  was  the  morning  of  life  clouded  o'er, 
And  its  charming  serenity  lost ; 

Too  soon  was  I  forced  to  abandon  the  shore, 
And  on  ocean's  rude  billows  be  tost. 

Your  earnest  solicitations,  my  inestimable,  my  best  friend, 
have,  with  me,  the  force  of  commands,  and  consequently  I 
am  irresistibly  compelled  to  retrace,  for  3'our  gratification, 
as  man}^  of  the  incidents  of  earlj'  life  as  live  in  my  memory. 
Assured  of  your  indulgence,  I  unhesitatingly  commit  to  your 
:-andor  and  to  j^our  discretion  the  following  sheets. 

I  am  induced  to  regret  that  my  anecdotes  of  this  charm- 
■ig  season  are  not  more  multiplied.  Were  my  recollection 
perfect,  my  enjoyments  would  be  reiterated ;  but  this  would 
not  be  right,  therefore  it  is  not  so.  Every  season  has  its 
enjoyments,  and  the  God  of  nature  has  thought  proper  to 
keep  them  distinct  and  appropriate. 

I  think,  if  I  mistake  not,  I  was  ushered  into  this  state 

15 


16  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

of  being  on  the  10th  day  of  December,  in  the  year  of  our 
Lord  1741,  four  years  before  the  rebellion  in  Scotland,  of 
'45.  I  mention  this  circumstance,  as  it  proved  to  me,  in 
early  life,  a  source  of  some  vexation.  The  rebellion  termi- 
nated in  the  destruction  of  many  of  the  Scotch  nobility  of 
my  name ;  and  this  same  rebellion  was  long  the  subject  of 
political  controversy^,  which  generally  terminated  in  the  exe- 
cration of  the  Scots,  and,  on  account  of  my  name,  I  was 
looked  upon  as  a  party  concerned. 

I  drew  my  first  breath  in  the  island  of  Great  Britain,  in 
the  town  of  Alton,  in  Hampshire.  This  town  boasts  a  church, 
a  Presbj'terian  and  a  Quaker  meeting-house,  a  celebrated 
free  school,  an  extensive  and  ver}^  useful  manufacture,  and 
it  is  environed  by  a  plantation  of  hops.  Alton  is  seated  on 
the  River  We}-,  eighteen  miles  east-north-east  of  South- 
Hampton,  and  fortj-eight  miles  west-south-west  of  London. 

Being  the  first-born  of  my  parents,  it  is  not  wonderful 
that  m}^  appearance  gave  much  jo}',  nor  that  the  little  com- 
plaints incident  to  infancy  gave  great  apprehension.  It 
was  in  consequence  of  some  little  indisposition  that  they 
solicited  and  obtained  for  me  private  baptism.  M}^  parents 
were  both  sincerely  religious,  though  members  of  different 
sects.  M}^  father  was  an  Episcopalian,  my  mother  a  Pres- 
byterian ;  yet  religion  never  disturbed  the  harmony  of  the 
familj'.  My  mother  believed,  as  most  good  women  then  be- 
lieved, that  husbands  ought  to  have  the  direction,  especially 
in  concerns  of  such  vast  importance  as  to  involve  the  future 
well-being  of  their  children  ;  and  of  conrsc  it  was  agreed 
that  I  should  receive  from  the  hands  of  an  Episcopalian 
minister  the  rite  of  private  baptism  ;  and  as  this  ordinance, 
in  this  private  manner,  is  not  administered,  except  the 
infant  is  suppo.^ed  in  danger  of  going  out  of  the  world  in  an 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY,  17 

unregenerate  state,  before  it  can  be  brought  to  the  church, 
I  take  for  granted  I  was,  by  my  apprehensive  parents,  be- 
lieved in  imminent  danger  ;  yet,  through  succeeding  years, 
I  seemed  almost  exempt  from  the  casualties  of  childhood. 
I  am  told  that  my  parents  and  grandparents  had  much 
joy  in  me  ;  that  I  never  broke  their  rest  nor  disturbed  their 
repose,  not  even  in  weaning  ;  that  I  was  a  healthy,  good-hu- 
mored child,  of  a  ruddy  complexion,  and  that  the  equality 
of  my  disposition  became  proverbial.  I  found  the  use  of 
my  feet  before  I  had  completed  my  first  year ;  but  the  gift 
of  utterance  was  still  postponed.  I  was  hardly  two  years 
old,  when  I  had  a  sister  born ;  this  sister  was  presented  at 
the  baptismal  font,  and,  according  to  the  custom  in  our 
church,  I  was  carried  to  be  received;  that  is,  all  who  are 
privately  baptized,  must,  if  they  live,  be  publicly  received 
in  the  congregation.  The  priest  took  me  in  his  arms,  and, 
having  prayed,  according  tq  the  form  made  use  of  on  such 
occasions,  I  articulated  with  an  audible  voice  Amen.  The 
congregation  were  astonished,  and  I  have  frequentlj^  heard 
my  parents  say  this  was  the  first  word  I  ever  uttered,  and 
that  a  long  time  elapsed  before  I  could  distinctly  articu- 
late any  other.  Indulged,  as  I  said,  by  bounteous  nature 
with  much  serenity  of  mind,  every  one  was  happy  with  me. 
I  was  fond  of  being  abroad,  and  a  servant  was  generally 
employed  to  gratify  me.  During  these  repeated  rambles  I 
experienced  some  "  hair-breadth  *scapes,"  which,  while  they 
excited  the  wonder  of  my  good  parents,  they  failed  not  to 
record.  From  these  frequent  promenades  I  derived  that 
vigorous  constitution,  or  at  least  its  stabilit}",  which  has 
prolonged  my  abode  in  this  vale  of  tears,  through  many 
serious  disorders  which  have  seemed  to  promise  my  eman- 
cipation. I  do  not  remember  the  time  when  I  did  not 
2 


18  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

behold  the  works  of  nature  with  delight,  —  such  as  the 
drapery  of  the  heavens,  and  the  flowers  of  the  garden  and 
the  fields  ;  and  I  perfectly  recollect,  before  I  was  clothed  in 
masculine  habiliments,  that  I  was  delightedly  occupied  in 
opening  the  ground,  throwing  it  into  some  form,  and 
planting,  in  regular  order,  little  sprigs  broken  from  the 
gooseberry  or.  currant  bushes.  My  pleasures  of  this  nature 
were,  however,  soon  interrupted  by  going  to  school.  This 
was  my  first  affliction  ;  yet,  to  imperious  necessity,  the  sweet 
pliability  of  human  nature  soon  conformed  my  mind  ;  na}^, 
it  was  more  than  conformed.  I  derived  even  felicity,  from 
the  approbation  of  my  school-dame,  from  the  pictures  in  my 
books,  and  especially  from  the  acquaintance  I  formed  with 
my  school-mates. 

It  does  not  appear  to  me  that  I  was  what  the  world  calls 
naturally  vicious.  I  was  neither  querulous,  nor  quarrel- 
some ;  I  cannot  trace  in  my  mind  a  vestige  of  envy.  I 
rejoiced  in  every  advantage  possessed  by  my  little  comrades, 
and  my  father  was  accustomed  to  exclaim,  "  Never,  I  be- 
lieve, was  such  a  boy  ;  he  absolutely  delights  as  much  in  the 
new  garments  worn  by  the  children  of  our  neighbors,  as  in 
his  own  ; "  and,  indeed,  as  far  as  I  can  recollect  during  this 
sweet  morning  of  life,  my  most  complete  satisfaction  re- 
sulted from  the  gratification  of  others.  I  never  enjoyed 
anything  alone ;  my  earliest  pleasures  were  social,  and  I 
was  eager  to  reciprocate  every  good  office.  It  is  true  I  en- 
countered difficulties  from  the  various  dispositions  of  those 
with  whom  I  associated  ;  but,  in  my  infant  bosom,  rancor  or 
implacability  found  no  place.  Being,  however,  too  fond  of 
play,  and  ambitious  of  imitating  m}^  seniors,  I  had  little 
time  for  reading ;  yet  I  learned,  and  at  six  years  old  could 
read  a  chapter  in  the  Bible,  not  indeed  very  correctly,  but 


LIFE    OF  liEV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  19 

[  rarely  paused  at  a  word  ;  however  difficult,  still  I  read  on. 
My  father,  I  remember,  used  sometimes  to  laugh  out,  —  a 
levity  which,  by  the  way,  he  seldom  indulged,  —  but  he  did 
sometimes  laugh  out,  and  say,  ''  This  bo}^  sticks  at  nothing ; 
lie  has  a  most  astonishing  invention ;  how  it  is  he  utters 
such  sounds,  and  passes  on  with  such  rapidity,  I  cannot 
conceive."  But  my  blunders  were  more  frequently  marked 
by  a  staggering  box  on  the  ear,  which  necessitated  me  to 
stop,  when  I  was  obliged  to  recommence,  and  go  over  the 
whole  again.  This  conduct  originated,  even  at  this  early 
age,  moYQ  fear  th2in  affection  for  my  father.  I  was  studious 
to  avoid  his  presence,  and  I  richly  enjoyed  his  absence.  To 
my  brothers  and  sisters,  who  were  multiplied  with  uncom- 
mon rapidity,  I  was  warmly  attached  ;  and  as  our  mother 
contributed  all  in  her  power  to  our  gratification,  our  pleas- 
ures were  not  surpassed  bj^  those  of  any  little  group  which 
came  under  our  observation. 

My  parents  were  the  religious  children  of  religious  parents 
and  grandparents  ;  they  were  the  more  religious  on  that  ac- 
count ;  and,  as  the  descendants  of  ancient  noble  families 
value  themselves  on  their  pedigree,  stimulating  their  chil- 
dren from  considerations  of  ancestry  to  act  up  to  the 
illustrious  examples  which  they  exhibit  and  emblazon,  uni- 
formly insisting  that  they  shall  avoid  mixing  with  the  ple- 
beian race ;  so,  as  soon  as  I  appeared  to  pay  attention  to 
interesting  tales,  I  was  made  acquainted  with  the  characters 
of  my  grandparents. 

My  paternal  grandfather,  however,  possessed  only  nega- 
tive religion ;  that  is,  his  affection  for  m}^  grandmother 
obliged  him  to  conform  to  her  in  everything  ;  and  he  esteemed 
himself  happy,  in  being  blest  with  a  wife,  who,  from  principle 
and  inclination,  was  both  able  and  willing  to  take  upon  her- 


20  LIFE    OF  REV,    JOHN  MURRAY. 

self  the  care  and  culture  of  her  children.  How  lonqr  this 
grandfather  lived  I  am  unable  to  say  ;  but  my  grandmother 
was,  with  respect  to  her  religious  attachments,  more  fortu- 
nate in  a  second  marriage.  She  was  united  to  a  Mr. 
Beattie,  a  man  of  considerable  note  in  every  point  of  view. 
It  was  by  this  gentleman's  name  I  became  acquainted  with 
my  grandmother.  I  remember,  when  very  3^oung,  to  have 
seen  his  picture,  which  gave  me  a  very  high  idea  of  his 
person.  It  was  his  son  who  was  governor  of  the  fortress 
in  the  harbor  of  Cork.  My  grandmother  soon  lost  this 
second  husband,  and  never  married  again.  She  was,  in  the 
morning  and  meridian  of  her  life,  a  celebrated  beauty  ;  the 
remains  of  a  fine  face  were  visible  when  I  knew  her.  I  never 
beheld  a  more  beautiful  old  lady.  Traces  of  affluence  were 
conspicuous  in  her  dwelling,  her  furniture,  and  apparel.  She 
was  an  immediate  descendant  of  an  ancient  and  honorable 
family  in  France ;  her  father's  name  was  Barroux,  one  of 
the  noblesse,  and  a  dweller  in  the  town  of  Paimboeuf,  on  the 
River  Loire,  between  the  city  of  Nantes  and  the  mouth  of 
said  river.  Mr.  Barroux,  having  buried  his  lad}^,  who  left 
him  two  daughters,  thought  proper,  as  was  then  the  custom 
of  people  of  distinction,  to  educate  his  eldest  daughter  in 
England.  This  step  banished  her  from  her  native  country 
and  from  her  father  ;  she  never  saw  either  more.  Attaching 
herself  to  a  family  of  Episcopalians,  she  became  a  zealous 
Protestant,  which,  together  with  her  selecting  a  husband  of 
the  same  persuasion,  confirmed  her  an  exile  forever.  The 
irritated  feeling  of  her  father  admitted  no  appeal ;  his  affec- 
tions were  totally  alienated.  He  was  a  high-spirited, 
obstinate  man,  and  he  swore,  in  his  wrath,  he  would  wed  the 
first  woman  he  met,  provided  he  could  obtain  her  consent, 
and  she  was  not  absolutely  disgusting.     The  first  who  pre- 


LIFE    OF  REV,   JOHN  MURRAY.  21 

sented  happened  to  be  his  chambermaid.  He  made  known  to 
her  his  vow,  was  accepted  with  gratitude,  and  they  were 
speedily  married.  Not  many  j^ears  after  this  event,  the  old 
gentleman  died,  leaA^ng  no  issue  by  his  second  marriage ; 
and,  as  he  left  no  will,  his  daughter,  who  continued  under 
the  paternal  roof,  entered  into  possession  of  the  whole 
estate.  She,  however,  survived  her  father  onl}^  three  weeks, 
when  my  grandmother  became  the  only  legal  heir  to  the 
pi'opert}',  both  of  her  father  and  her  sister. 

A  large  share  of  the  personal  estate  was  conveyed  to 
England  by  two  priests  ;  and  the  real  estate  was  tendered 
to  my  grandmother,  on  condition  that  she  w^ould  read 
her  recantation,  renounce  the  damnable  doctrines  of  the 
Church  of  England,  and  receive  the  Host,  as  the  real 
presence.  M3"  grandmother  and  my  father,  after  a  con- 
ference which  continued  but  a  few  moments,  cheerfuUj^ 
concurred  in  a  relinquishment  of  the  estate,  and  united  in 
declaring,  that,  on  terms  so  calculated  to  prostrate  their 
integrity,  they  would  not  accept  the  whole  kingdom  of 
France.  The  clergymen  returned  to  the  Gallic  shore,  and 
the  person  left  in  the  house,  for  the  purpose  of  taking 
charge  of  the  estate  until  the  heirs-at-law  should  recover 
their  senses,  continued  in  the  quiet  possession  of  an  in- 
heritance worth  five  hundred  pounds  sterling  per  annum. 
When  the  estate  was  thus,  upon  religious  principles, 
surrendered,  I  was  about  five  3'ears  of  age  ;  but  having 
frequently  heard  my  father  circumstantiallj^  relate  the 
transaction,  as  I  advanced  in  life  my  bosom  often  ac- 
knowledged a  latent  wish  that  he  had  accepted  an  inherit- 
ance, to  which  his  natural  claim  was  indubitable,  upon  the 
terms  offered  by  the  ecclesiastics,  which  were,  that  my 
gi'andmother   and   my  father   should,  in    so  many  words, 


22  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

qualify  themselves  for  the  possession  of  their  right,  while, 
in  their  hearts,  they  continued  to  judge  for  themselves. 
But  from  a  conduct  so  questionable,  the  guileless  heart  of 
m}^  upright  i)arent  spontaneously  revolted ;  and,  for  my- 
self, while  revolving  3'ears  gave  me  to  exult  in  his  decis- 
ion, the  detection,  of  so  reprehensible  a  principle  in  my 
own  bosom,  and  at  so  earl}-  a  period,  originated  much  con- 
trition. Yet,  notwithstanding  the  very  considerable  sac- 
rifice made  by  m}^  father,  his  uniform  efforts  commanded 
all  the  necessaries  and  many  of  the  elegancies  of  life. 
His  children  multiplied ;  four  sons  and  five  daughters 
augmented  his  felicities.  He  received  from  nature  a 
strong  mind ;  his  parents  bestowed  upon  him  a  good 
education,  and  he  was  universally  respected  and  beloved. 

The  parents  of  my  mother  were  well  known  to  me. 
Her  father's  name  was  James  Rolt ;  his  ancestors  were  all 
English.  He  was  in  early  life  a  hon-vivaiit^  and  even 
when  he  became  the  head  of  a  familj^  his  repreliensible 
pursuits  were  nothing  diminished.  The  silent  suflTeriugs  of 
his  wedded  companion  were  strongl}'  expressed  in  her  wan 
countenance  and  broken  health.  The  circumstances  of  his 
conversion  from  dissipation  to  a  life  of  severe  piet}'  were 
rather  remarkable,  and  were  considered  in  his  day  as 
miraculous. 

Of  the  piet}^  of  m}'  paternal  grandfather,  or  my  mater- 
nal grandmother,  1  have  little  to  say.  1  have  never  heard 
that  the}^  allowed  themselves  in  an}-  improper  indulgences  ; 
and  as  they  were  the  admirers  of  their  devout  companions, 
it  is  a  fair  conclusion  that  they  were  at  least  negatively 
pious,  and  that,  if  they  did  not  lead,  they  cheerfully  fol- 
lowed, in  cultivating  a  pious  disposition  in  the  minds  of 
their  children  ;  and,  by  consequence,  religion  became  the 


LIFE    OF  REV.   JOHN  MURRAY.  23 

legitimate  inheritance  of  my  immediate  parents.  The 
conversion  of  m}^  paternal  grandmother"  from  the  tenets  in 
which  she  was  educated  increased  her  zeal,  while  the  in- 
heritance sacrificed  from  conscientious  principles  gave 
her  to  consider  herself  more  especiall}-  heir  of  an  inheri- 
tance incorruptible,  undefiled,  and  that  fadeth  not  away ; 
and,  conscious  that  she  had  full}'  concurred  with  m}^  father 
in  depriving  their  children  of  a  temporal  treasure,  they 
were  sedulousl}'  anxious  to  inculcate  a  persuasion  of  the 
necessit}'  of  securing  another. 

It  is  wonderful  that,  while  it  was  the  great  business, 
both  of  my  father  and  mother,  to  render  their  children 
feelingl}'  solicitous  to  secure  an  interest  in  the  Redeemer, 
that  the}'  might  be  thus  entitled  to  a  blessed  and  happy 
fiiturit}-,  they  were  both  of  them  ver}^  rigid  Calvinists. 

The  doctrines  taught  hy  that  gloomj-  reformer  they 
undeviatingl}^  taught  to  their  famil}' ;  and  hence  my  soul 
frequently  experienced  the  extreme  of  agony.  Naturally 
vivacious,  to  implant  religion  among  my  juvenile  pleas- 
ures required  the  most  vigorous  and  uniform  effort. 
Religion  was  not  a  native  of  the  soil ;  it  was  an  exotic, 
which,  when  planted,  could  onl}'  be  kept  alive  by  the  most 
persevering  attention.  Hence  religion  became  a  subject 
of  terror.  I  was  not  ten  years  old  when  I  began  to  suffer. 
The  discover}'  of  my  sufferings  gave  my  fond  father  much 
pleasure ;  he  cherished  hope  of  me  when  he  found  me 
suffering  from  my  fears  ;  and  much  indeed  was  I  tortured 
by  the  severe,  unbending  discipline  of  my  father,  and  the 
terrifying  apprehensions  of  what  I  had  to  expect  from  the 
God  who  created  me.  The  second  son  of  my  parents  was 
naturally  of  a  pensive,  gloomy  disposition.  He  was  more 
piously  disposed,   and  less  fond  of  amusement  than  my- 


24  LIFE   OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

self;  and  hearing  much  of  Cain  as  the  eldest  son  of  Adam, 
of  Esau  as  the  eldest  son  of  Isaac,  and  of  Abel  and  Jacob 
as  the  younger  sons,  my  soul  was  frequently  filled  with 
terror,  verily  believing  my  brother  was  the  elected,  and 
mj^self  the  rejected,  of  God.  This  appalling  consideration, 
even  at  this  early  period,  frequently  devoted  my  da3's  and 
nights  to  tears  and  lamentation.  But  stability  dwelt  not 
with  me,  and  the  pleasing  expectations  of  my  father  were 
often  blasted  ;  mj^  attachment  to  my  pla3'mates  and  their 
childish  gambols  revived ;  and,  when  engaged  in  appropri- 
ate amusements,  I  often  forgot  the  immediate  terror  of  the 
rod,  and  of  future  misery,  both  of  which,  as  often  as  I  re- 
flected, I  painfully  believed  I  should  endure.  M}^  father 
took  every  method  to  confine  me  within  his  walls  ;  it  was 
with  diflflculty  he  prevailed  upon  himself  to  permit  my 
attendance  at  school,  j^et  this  was  necessary,  and  to  school 
I  must  go ;  while  that  rigid  and  extreme  vigilance,  which 
was  ever  upon  the  alert,  produced  effects  diametrically 
opposite  to  the  end  proposed.  My  appetite  for  pleasure 
increased,  and  I  occasionally  preferred  the  truant  frolic  to 
the  stated  seasons  of  stud}^  yea,  though  I  was  certain 
severe  castigation  would  be  the  consequence.  Pious  sup- 
plications were  the  accompaniments  of  the  chastisements 
which  were  inflicted,  so  that  I  often  passed  from  the  terror 
of  the  rod  to  the  terrifying  apprehensions  of  future  and 
never-ending  miser}^  Upon  these  terrific  occasions  the 
most  solemn  resolutions  were  formed,  and  my  vows  were 
marked  by  floods  of  tears.  I  would  no  more  offend  cither 
my  father,  or  Ids  God ;  I  dared  not  to  say  my  God,  for  I 
had  heard  my  father  declare  that  for  any  individual,  not 
the  elect  of  God,  to  say  of  God,  or  to  God,  "  Our 
Fatiikr,"  was  nothing  better  than  blasphemy  :  when  most 


LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN   MURRAY.  25 

devout,  I  was  prevented  from  deriving  consolation  from 
my  pious  breathings,  b\^  a  persuasion  that  I  was  a  repro- 
bate, predestined  to  eternal  perdition.  In  fact,  I  believed 
that  I  had  nothing  to  hope,  but  everything  to  fear,  both 
from  my  Creator  and  ni}^  father ;  and  these  soul-appalling 
considerations,  by  enforcing  a  conclusion  that  I  was  but 
making  provision  for  alternate  torture,  threw  a  cloud  over 
ever}'  innocent  enjo3'ment. 

About  the  time  that  I  attained  m}'  eleventh  3'ear  (1751) 
my  father  removed  to  Ireland,  and  though  I  dreaded  going 
with  him  anywhere,  I  was  the  onl}'  individual  of  the 
famil}'  whom  he  compelled  to  accompany  him.  Yet  I  was 
captivated  by  the  charms  of  noveltJ^  London  filled  me 
with  amazement;  and  my  fond,  ni}'  apprehensive  father 
was  in  continual  dread  of  losing  me  ;  while  the  severity  he 
practised  to  detain  me  near  him,  b}'  invigorating  my 
desires  to  escape  from  his  presence,  increased  the  evil. 

We  quitted  London  in  the  middle  of  April,  and,  reach- 
ing Bristol,  tarried  but  a  little  while  in  that  city.  At  Pill, 
five  miles  from  Bristol,  between  m}^  father  and  m3'self  a 
final  separation  was  on  the  point  of  taking  place.  In  the 
Bristol  Kiver  the  tide  is  extremely  rapid.  I  stepped  into 
a  boat  on  the  slip,  and,  letting  it  loose,  the  force  of  the 
current  almost  instantly  carried  it  off  into  the  channel, 
and  had  it  been  ehh  instead  of  flood  tide  I  must  inevitably 
have  gone  out  to  sea,  anil  most  probably'  should  never 
have  been  heard  of  more  ;  but  the  flood  tide  carried  me 
with  great  rapidit}"  up  the  river,  and  the  onlj'  fear  I  ex- 
perienced was  from  the  eflfects  of  ray  father's  indignation. 
The  poor  gentleman  and  a  number  of  compassionate 
individuals  were  engaged,  until  almost  twelve  o'clock,  in 
searching   the   town,   and    the    harbor,   and    had   returned 


26  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

home  relinquishing  every  hope  of  my  restoration.  In  the 
midst  of  the  stream  I  found  a  large  flat-bottomed  boat  at 
anchor,  to  which,  making  fast  the  boat  I  was  in,  I  conse- 
quently proceeded  no  farther.  At  midnight,  I  heard 
voices  on  the  side  of  the  river,  when,  earnestly  imploring 
their  aid,  and  offering  a  liberal  reward,  they  came  in  their 
boat,  and,  conveying  me  on  shore,  conducted  me  to  my 
lodgings.  But  no  language  can  describe  my  dismay,  as  I 
drew  near  my  father,  who  was  immediately  preparing  to 
administer  the  deserved  chastisement,  when  the  beuevolent 
hostess  interposed,  and  in  pity-moving  accents  exclaimed, 
"  Oh,  for  God's  sake  let  the  poor  Blood  alone  ;  I  warrant 
he  has  suffered  enough  already."  My  father  was  softened  ; 
perhaps  he  was  not  displeased  to  find  a  pretence  for  mild- 
ness ;  he  gave  me  no  correction  for  this  ofience ;  he  even 
treated  me  with  unusual  kindness.  We  were  detained  in 
Pill  three  weeks,  wishing  for  a  favorable  wind ;  three 
weeks  more  at  Minehead,  and  three  weeks  at  Milford 
Haven.  Thus  we  were  nine  weeks  in  performing  a  pas- 
sage which  is  commonly  made  in  forty-eight  hours  ;  and 
instead  of  my  father's  reaching  Cork  before  the  residue  of 
his  family  they  were  there  almost  at  the  moment  of  our 
arrival.  In  Cork  we  were  at  home.  There  dwelt  the 
respected  mother  of  my  father,  and  in  easy  circumstances  ; 
many  changes,  however,  had  taken  place  in  her  family, 
although  the  remains  of  affluence  were  still  visible.  My 
father  fixed  his  residence  in  the  vicinity  of  this  city,  and  a 
most  pleasing  residence  it  proved. 

About  this  time  the  Methodists  made  their  appearance, 
and  my  father  was  among  the  first  who  espoused  their 
cause.  His  zeal  for  vital  religion  could  hardly  be  sur- 
passed ;  and  it  appeared  to  him  that  this  innate  and  lioly 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  27 

operation,  rejected  by  every  other  sect,  bad  found  refuge 
in  tbe  bosoms  of  these  exemplary  people.  But,  though 
my  father  espoused  the  cause,  he  did  not  immediately 
become  a  Metho''^t ;  the  Methodists  were  not  Calvinists. 
Yet,  if  possible,  he  doubled  his  diligence  ;  he  kept  his 
family  more  strict  than  ever  ;  he  was  distinguished  by  the 
name  of  saint,  and  became  the  onl}'-  person  in  his  vicinity 
whom  the  Methodists  acknowledged  as  trul}^  pious.  With 
the  religion  of  the  Methodists  I  was  greatly  enamored  ; 
they  preached  often,  and  in  the  streets  ;  they  had  private 
societies  of  3'oung  people,  and  sweet  singing,  and  a  vast 
deal  of  it,  and  an  amazing  variety  of  tunes, — and  all 
this  was  beyond  expression  charming.  At  this  period  the 
health  of  my  father  began  to  decline.  Physicians  con- 
curred in  opinion  that  his  complaints  indicated  a  pulmo- 
nary affection.  Again  bis  efforts  were  renewed  and  invig- 
orated, and,  poor  gentleman,  his  labors  were  abundantly 
multiplied.  The  ardent  desire  of  his  soul  was  to  render 
every  individual  of  his  family  actively  religious,  and  relig- 
ious in  his  own  way ;  but  as  his  children  necessarily 
mingled  more  or  less  with  the  children  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, they  caught  words  and  habits  which  he  disliked,  and 
application  was  made  to  the  rod  as  a  sovereign  panacea. 

In  the  course  of  my  twelfth  year  my  father  was  over- 
taken by  a  very  heavy  calamity :  his  house,  and  indeed 
almost  everything  he  possessed,  were  laid  in  ashes.  He 
had  only  a  moment  to  snatch  to  his  bosom  a  sleeping  in- 
fant from  its  cradle,  when  a  part  of  the  house  fell  in  ;  an 
instant  longer,  and  they  would  both  have  been  wrapped  in 
the  surrounding  flames ;  and  a  deep  sense  of  this  pre- 
serving mercy  accompanied  him  to  his  grave.  Thus  every 
event  of  his  life  seemed  to  combine  to  render  his  devotions- 


^8  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

more  and  more  fervent.  It  was  happ}^  for  us  that  my 
respectable  grandmother  still  lived,  whose  extricating  hand 
was  an  ever  ready  resource. 

It  was  my  father's  constant  practice,  so  long  as  his  health 
would  permit,  to  quit  his  bed,  winter  as  well  as  summer,  at 
four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  A  large  portion  of  this  time, 
thus  redeemed  from  sleep,  w^as  devoted  to  private  prayers 
and  meditations:  At  six  o'clock  the  family  were  sum- 
moned, and  I,  as  the  eldest  son,  was  ordered  into  my  closet, 
for  the  purpose  of  private  devotion.  My  father,  however, 
did  not  go  with  me,  and  I  did  not  always  pray.  I  was  not 
always  in  a  praying  frame  ;  but  the  deceit,  which  I  was 
thus  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  practising,  was  an  addi- 
tional torture  to  my  laboring  mind.  After  the  family  were 
collected,  it  was  my  part  to  read  a  chapter  in  the  Bible  ; 
then  followed  a  long  and  fervent  prayer  by  m}^  father ; 
breakfast  succeeded,  when,  the  children  being  sent  to 
school,  the  business  of  the  day  commenced.  In  the  course 
of  the  day  my  father,  as  I  believed,  never  omitted  his  pri- 
vate devotions,  and  in  the  evening  the  whole  family  were 
again  collected,  the  children  examined,  our  faults  recorded, 
and  I,  as  an  example  to  the  rest,  especially  chastised.  My 
father  rarely  passed  by  an  offence  without  marking  it  b}^ 
such  punishment  as  his  sense  of  duty  awarded  ;  and  when 
my  tearful  mother  interceded  for  me,  he  would  respond  to 
her  entreaties  in  the  language  of  Solomon,  ''  If  thou  heat 
him  with  a  rod,  he  shall  7iot  die."  The  Bible  was  again  in- 
troduced, and  the  day  was  closed  by  prayer.  Sunday  was 
a  day  much  to  be  dreaded  in  our  family.  We  were  all 
awakened  at  early  dawn,  private  devotions  attended,  break- 
fast hastily  dismissed,  shutters  closed,  no  light  but  from 
the  back  part  of  the  house  ;  no  noise  could  bring  any  part 


LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  29 

of  the  family  to  the  window ;  not  a  syllable  was  uttered 
upon  secular  affairs.  Every  one  who  could  read,  children 
and  domestics,  had  their  allotted  chapters.  Family  prayer 
succeeded ;  after  which,  Baxter's  "  Saints'  Everlasting 
Kest "  was  assigned  to  me  ;  my  mother  all  the  time  in  ter- 
ror lest  the  children  should  be  an  interruption.  At  last  the 
bell  summoned  us  to  church,  whither  in  solemn  order  we 
proceeded,  —  1  close  to  my  father,  who  admonished  me  to 
look  straight  forward,  and  not  let  my  eyes  wander  after 
vanit}'".  At  church  I  was  fixed  at  his  elbow,  compelled  to 
kneel  when  he  kneeled,  to  stand  when  he  stood,  to  find  the 
Psalm,  Epistle,  Gospel,  and  collects  for  the  day ;  and  any 
instance  of  inattention  was  vigilantly  marked,  and  unre- 
lentingly punished.  When  I  returned  from  church  I  was 
ordered  to  my  closet ;  and  when  I  came  forth,  the  chapter 
from  which  the  preacher  had  taken  his  text  was  read,  and 
I  was  then  questioned  respecting  the  sermon,  a  part  of 
which  I  could  generally  repeat.  Dinner,  as  breakfast,  was 
taken  in  silent  haste,  after  which  we  were  not  suflered  to 
walk,  even  in  the  garden,  but  every  one  must  either  read 
or  hear  reading  until  the  bell  gave  the  signal  for  afternoon 
service,  from  which  we  returned  to  private  devotion,  to 
reading,  to  catechizing,  to  examination,  and  long  family 
prayer,  which  closed  the  most  laborious  day  of  the  week. 
It  was  the  custom  for  many  of  our  visiting  friends  to  unite 
with  us  in  these  evening  exercises,  to  the  no  small  gratifica- 
tion of  my  father.  It  is  true,  especially  after  he  became  an 
invalid,  he  was  often  extremely  fatigued  ;  but,  upon  these 
occasions,  the  more  lie  suffered,  the  more  he  rejoiced,  since 
his  reward  would  be  the  greater ;  and  indeed  his  sufferings, 
of  every  description,  were  to  him  a  never-failing  source  of 
consolation.     In  fact,  this  devotional  life  became  to  him 


30  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHX   MURRAY, 

second  nature  ;  but  it  was  not  so  to  his  family.  For  my- 
self, I  was  alternately  serious  and  wild,  but  never  yet  very 
moderate  in  any  tiling.  M}^  father  rejoiced  in  my  devotional 
frames,  and  was  encouraged  to  proceed,  as  occasion  was 
given,  in  the  good  work  of  whipping,  admonishing,  and 
pra3'ing.  I  continued  to  repeat  my  pious  resolutions,  and, 
still  more  to  bind  ni}'  soul,  I  once  vowed  a  vow  unto  the 
Lord,  — kissing  the  book  for  the  purpose  of  adding  to  its 
solemnity",  —  that  I  would  no  more  visit  the  pleasure- 
gi'ounds,  nor  again  associate  with  those  boys  who  had  been 
my  companions.  Almost  immediately  after  this  transac- 
tion I  attended  a  thundering  preacher,  who,  taking  for  his 
text  that  command  of  our  Saviour  which  directs  his  disci- 
ples to  "  swear  not  at  all,"  gave  me  to  believe  I  had  com- 
mitted a  most  heinous  transgression  in  the  oath  that  I  had 
taken.  Na}^  he  went  so  far  as  to  assure  his  hearers,  that  tc 
say  "  Upon  my  word  "  was  an  oath,  a  ver}^  horrid  oath,  since 
it  was  tantamount  to  swearing  by  Jesus  Christ,  inasmuch 
as  he  was  the  Word,  who  was  made  flesh  for  us,  and  dwelt 
amonoj  us.  This  sermon  rendered  me  for  a  lonor  season 
truly  wretched,  while  I  had  no  individual  to  whom  I  could 
confide  my  distresses.  To  mj^  father  I  dared  not  even  name 
my  secret  afflictions  ;  and  my  mother,  as  far  as  the  tender- 
ness of  her  nature  would  permit,  was  in  strict  unison  with 
her  venerated  husband.  The  depression  of  m}^  spirits  upon 
this  occasion  was  great  and  enduring  ;  but  for  revolving 
months  I  continued  what  they  called  a  good  boy.  I  was 
attentive  to  my  book,  carefully  following  the  directions 
that  were  given  me,  and  on  my  return  from  school,  instead 
of  squandering  the  hours  of  intermission  with  idle  associ- 
ates, I  immediately  retired  to  the  garden,  which  constituted 
one  of  the  first  pleasures  of  my  life  ;  in  fact,  the  cultivation 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  31 

of  fruits  and  flowers  has  in  ever}-  period  of  m}"  existence 
continued  to  me  a  prime  source  of  enjoyment.  My  pater- 
nal grandmother  was  the  Lad}'  Bountiful  of  the  parish ; 
having  made  it  her  study,  she  became  an  adept  in  the  dis- 
tillation of  simples  ;  she  had  a  large  garden  adjoining  to  my 
father's,  and  she  cultivated  an  amazing  variety  of  plants. 
As  I  was  her  favorite  assistant,  she  gradually  obtained  my 
father's  permission  that  I  should  appropriate  to  her  a  large 
part  of  my  time  ;  and  the  hours  which  I  consequently 
devoted  to  this  venerable  lady  in  her  garden  and  in  her 
habitation  were  to  me  halcyon  hours.  It  was  my  study  to 
enrich  her  grounds  with  every  choice  herb  or  flower  which 
met  my  gaze,  and  I  was  ever  on  the  alert  to  collect  plants 
of  the  most  rare  description.  This  was  confessedly  an 
innocent  amusement ;  it  would  bear  reflection,  and  was 
therefore  delightful.  Alas  !  alas !  it  was  too  replete  with 
felicity  to  be  continued.  I  was  soon  compelled  to  relin- 
quish my  pleasant  occupation.  My  father  found  it  neces- 
sary to  remove  from  the  neighborhood  of  his  mother,  and 
her  garden  no  more  bloomed  for  me. 

We  were  speedily  established  in  the  vicinity  of  a  noble- 
man's seat,  in  which  was  instituted  an  academy  of  high  rep- 
utation. It  was  under  the  direction  of  an  Episcopalian 
clerg3'man,  who,  being  well  acquainted  with  and  much  at- 
tached to  m}^  father,  had  frequent  opportunities  of  hearing 
me  recite  many  chapters  from  the  Bible,  which  I  had  com- 
mitted to  memory,  and,  becoming  fond  of  me,  he  earnestly 
importuned  my  father  to  surrender  me  up  to  his  care.  ''  He 
shall  live  in  my  family,"  said  he  ;  "he  shall  be  unto  me  as  a 
son.  I  will  instruct  him,  and,  when  opportunity  offers,  he 
shall  become  a  member  of  the  University.  He  has  a  prodig- 
ious memory  ;   his  understanding  needs  only  to  be  opened, 


32  LIFE   OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

when  he  will  make  the  most  rapid  progress."  But  my  father, 
trembling  for  my  spiritual  interest  if  removed  from  his 
guardian  care,  returned  to  this  liberal  proposal  the  most  un- 
qualified negative,  and  my  writing-master  immediately 
sought  and  obtained  the  situation  for  his  son,  who  was  about 
my  age.  In  this  academy  many  noblemen's  pons  were  qual- 
ified for  Trinity  College,  Dublin  ;  and  in  a  few  years  one  of 
those  ennobled  students  selected  my  fortunate  school-mate 
as  a  companion.  He  passed  through  Trinity  College,  and  re- 
ceived its  honors  ;  from  which  period  I  never  again  beheld 
him  until  I  saw  him  in  a  pulpit  in  the  city  of  London. 

Though  my  social  propensities  at  every  period  of  my  life 
greatly  predominated,  3' et  the  close  attention  paid  me  by  my 
father  greatly  abridged  every  enjoyment  of  this  description. 
Yet  I  did  form  one  dear  connexion,  with  whom  I  held  sweet 
converse.  But  of  the  society  of  this  dear  youth  I  was  soon 
deprived.  Recalled  by  his  family,  he  was  to  leave  town  upon 
a  Sunday  morning,  and  instead  of  going  to  church  I  took  my 
way  to  his  lodgings  for  the  purpose  of  bidding  him  a  last 
farewell.  The  ill-health  of  my  father  prevented  him  from 
attending  church  on  that  day,  but  tidings  of  my  delinquency 
were  conveyed  to  him  by  a  gentleman  of  his  acquaintance, 
and  my  punishment  as  I  then  believed  was  more  than  pro- 
portioned to  my  fault.  Still,  however,  I  had  sufficient 
hardihood  to  run  great  hazards.  A  review  of  several  regi- 
ments of  soldiers  was  announced.  I  could  not  obtain  leave 
to  be  present,  yet,  for  the  purpose  of  witnessing  a  sight  so 
novel,  I  was  determined  to  take  the  day  to  myself.  I  suf- 
fered much  through  the  day  from  hunger,  and  I  anticipated 
m}^  reception  at  home.  In  the  evening,  I  stopped  at  a  little 
hut,  where  the  homely  supper  smoked  upon  a  frugal  board. 
The  cottagers  had  the  goodness  to  press  me  to  partake  with 


LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  33 

them.  My  heart  blessed  them.  I  should,  like  Esau,  have 
given  m}'  birthright,  had  it  been  mine  to  bestow,  for  this 
entertainment ;  but,  blessings  on  the  hospitable  inhabitants 
of  this  island,  they  make  no  demands  either  upon  friend 
or  stranger ;  every  individual  is  welcome  to  whatever 
sustenance  either  their  houses  or  their  huts  afford.  I  sat 
down,  and  I  ate  the  sweetest  meal  I  ever  ate  in  my  life,  the 
pleasure  of  which  I  have  never  yet  forgotten,  although 
the  paternal  chastisement  which  followed  was  uncom- 
monly severe. 

The  time  now  approached  when  it  was  judged  necessary 
I  should  engage  in  some  business,  by  which  I  might  secure 
the  necessaries  of  life.  The  conscience  of  my  father  had 
deprived  me  of  an  estate  and  of  a  collegiate  education,  and 
It  was  incumbent  upon  him  to  make  some  provision  for  me. 
But  what  was  to  be  done?  If  he  sent  me  abroad,  I  should 
most  unquestionably  contract  bad  habits.  Well,  then,  he 
would  bring  me  up  himself;  but  this  was  very  diflScult.  He 
had  for  some  time  thrown  up  business,  and  new  expenses 
must  be  incurred.  Finally,  however,  I  commenced  my  new 
career,  and  under  the  e3'e  of  m}'  painstaking  father.  I  did 
not,  however,  like  it ;  yet  I  went  on  well,  and,  dividing  my 
attention  between  my  occupation  and  my  garden,  I  had  lit- 
tle leisure.  It  was  at  this  period  I  began  once  more  to 
experience  the  powerful  operation  of  religion,  and  secret 
devotion  became  my  choice.  Perhaps  no  one  of  m}^  age 
ever  more  potently  felt  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  religion. 
The  Methodists  had  followed  us  to  our  new  situation,  and 
the}^  made  much  noise.  They  courted  and  obtained  the  at- 
tention of  my  father,  and  he  now  joined  their  society.  They 
urged  him  to  become  a  preacher,  but  his  great  humility,  and 
his  disbelief  of  Arminianism,  were  insuperable    bars.     He 


34  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

was  nevertheless  a  powerful  assistant  to  the  Methodists. 
Mr.  John  Wesley  was  a  great  admirer  of  my  father,  and  he 
distinguished  him  beyond  any  individual  in  the  society,  per- 
severingly  urging  him  to  become  the  leader  of  a  class,  and 
to  meet  the  society  in  the  absence  of  their  preachers  ;  to  all 
which  my  father  consented.  I  think  I  have  before  observed 
that  I  was  devoted  to  the  Methodists,  and  for  the  very  reason 
that  rendered  my  father  apprehensive  of  them, —  they  were 
very  social.  The  Methodists  in  this,  as  in  every  other 
place  where  they  sojourned,  by  degrees  established  a  per- 
manent residence.  They  first  preached  in  the  streets,  prac- 
tised much  self-denial  and  mortification,  inveighed  against 
the  standing  religion  of  the  country  as  impious  and  hj^po- 
critical,  declaring  the  new  birth  onh^  to  be  found  among 
them.  To  this  general  rule,  they,  however,  allowed  my 
father  to  be  an  exception,  and  his  open  espousal  of  their 
cause  contributed  greatly  to  bringing  them  up.  They  gained 
many  proselytes.  It  became  the  fashion  for  multitudes  to 
become  religious  ;  and  it  is  in  religion  as  in  everything  else, 
where  once  it  is  followed  by  a  multitude,  multitudes  will 
^follow.  The  very  children  became  religious.  A  meeting- 
house was  speedily  obtained,  a  society  was  formed,  and 
classes  of  every  description  regularly  arranged.  There  was 
one  class  of  boys  ;  it  consisted  of  fort}^,  and  Mr.  John  Wes- 
ley appointed  me  their  leader.  Twice  in  the  course  of 
every  week  this  class  met  in  a  private  apartment.  The  busi- 
ness of  the  leader  was  to  see  that  the  members  were  all 
present ;  for  this  purpose  he  was  furnished  with  a  list  of 
their  names,  and  when  they  were  all  assembled  the  leader 
began  by  singing  a  hymn. 

I  was  once  pronounced  a  good  singer,  and,  although  I 
never   had   patience   to   learn   music   by   note,   I   readily 


LIFE    OF  JIEV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  35 

caught  every  tune  I  heard,  and  my  notes  were  seldom 
false.  I  repeat,  that  I  was  delighted  with  the  music  intro- 
duced b}^  the  Methodists.  I  collected  their  most  enchant- 
ing tunes,  and,  singing  them  frequently  in  my  class,  I 
obtained  much  applause.  Pra^^er  succeeded  the  hymn.  I 
was  accustomed  to  extemporary  praj-er.  I  had  usuall}- 
praj'ed  in  sincerity,  and  my  devotion  upon  these  occasions 
was  glowinor  and  unfeis^ned.  Examination  followed  the 
praj^er.  I  examined  every  individual  separately  respecting 
the  work  of  God  upon  his  heart,  and  both  the  questions 
and  responses  evinced  great  simplicity  and  pious  sincerity. 
A  word  of  general  advice  next  ensued,  a  second  hymn 
was  sung,  and  the  whole  concluded  with  prayer.  This 
was  a  most  delightful  season  both  for  my  parents  and  m}^- 
self.  I  became  the  object  of  general  attention  ;  m}^  so- 
ciety was  sought  by  the  gray-headed  man  and  the  child. 
My  experience  was  various  and  great ;  in  fact,  I  had  ex- 
perienced more  of  what  is  denominated  the  work  of  God 
upon  the  heart  than  many,  I  had  almost  said  than  any,  of 
my  seniors,  my  parents  excepted.  Devout  persons  pro- 
nounced that  I  was,  by  divine  favor,  destined  to  become  a 
burning  and  a  shining  light;  and  from  these  flattering 
appearances  my  father  drew  much  consolation.  I  was 
frequently  addressed,  in  his  presence,  as  the  child  of  much 
watching  and  earnest  pra3^er.  This,  to  my  proudly  pious 
parent,  was  not  a  little  flattering  ;  it  was  then  that  I 
derived  incalculable  satisfaction  from  these  \qyy  legible 
marks  of  election.  And  though  the  Methodists  insisted 
that  the  doctrine  of  election  before  repentance  and  faith 
was  a  damnable  doctrine,  jQi  they  admitted  that,  after  the 
manifestation  of  extraordinary  evidences,  the  individual 
so   favored   was   unquestionably   elected.      Thus,   by   the 


36  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

concurrent  testimonies  of  Calvinists  and  Arminians,  I  was 
taught  to  consider  myself  as  distinguished  and  chosen  of 
God  ;  as  certainly  born  again.  Yet,  as  it  was  next  to 
impossible  to  ascertain  the  moment  of  m}-  new  birth,  I 
became  seriously  unhappy.  But  from  this  unhappiness  I 
was  rescued  by  reading  accounts  of  hol}^  and  good  men  in 
similar  circumstances.  I  now,  therefore,  lived  a  heaven 
upon  earth,  beloved,  caressed,  and  admired.  No  longer 
shut  up  under  m}^  father's  watchful  care,  I  was  allowed  to 
go  out  every  morning,  at  five  o'clock,  to  the  house  of  pub- 
lic worship ;  there  I  h3'mned  the  praises  of  God,  and 
united  in  fervent  prayer  with  the  cliildren  of  the  faithful. 
Meeting  several  of  m}^  young,  admiring  friends,  we  ex- 
changed experiences,  we  mingled  our  joys  and  our  sor- 
rows, and,  by  this  friendly  intercourse,  the  first  was 
increased,  and  the  second  diminished.  In  all  our  little 
meetings  we  were  continually  complaining  to,  and  sooth- 
ing, each  other,  and  these  employments  were  trul}^  delight- 
ful. The  mind  cannot  be  intently  occupied  on  contrary 
matters  at  the  same  time,  and,  my  mind  being  filled  with 
devotion,  my  waking  and  m}^  sleeping  moments  were  inva- 
riably engaged  in  religious  pursuits.  It  was  in  truth  my 
meat  and  my  drink  to  do  what  I  believed  the  will  of  my 
heavenly  Father.  At  this  period  I  should  have  been 
wrecked  upon  the  sand-built  foundation  of  self-righteous- 
ness, as  many  of  my  3'oung  friends  were,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  unbroken  vigilance  of  an  experienced  and  tender 
father.  He  saw  the  danger  of  too  great  elation,  .and  he 
labored  to  keep  me  humble  in  my  own  estimation.  "  You 
now,  my  dear,"  said  he,  "  think  you  know  everything ; 
but  when  you  really  attain  superior  information  j^ou  will 
be   convinced   .you    know   noihing."      This    assertion    ap- 


LIFE    OF  REV,    JOHX  MURRAY.  87 

peared  to  me  extremely  paradoxical ;  but  I  have  since 
learned  to  appreciate  its  rationalitj-  and  its  truth.  I  know 
not  how  long  I  proceeded  in  this  delightful  path  ;  nothing 
from  within  or  without  interrupted  ni}-  course,  and  I  well 
remember  that  I  fancied  mj^self  on  the  verge  of  perfection. 
I  saw,  or  imagined  I  saw,  undeviating  rectitude  within  my 
grasp.  I  was  conscious  of  no  wishes  but  those  which  I 
considered  the  legitimate  offspring  of  the  religion  I  pro- 
fessed. I  wondered  what  had  become  of  my  evil  propen- 
sities ;  the}'  were,  however,  gone,  and  I  believed  they 
would  no  more  return.  M}'  daj's,  my  weeks,  rolled  on, 
uniformh'  devoted  to  pursuits  which  created  for  me  unut- 
terable self-complacenc}'.  On  Sunda}'  morning  I  arose 
with  the  sun,  and  like  our  first  parent  in  a  state  of  inno- 
cence, — 

"  Straight  towards  heaven  my  wandering  eyes  I  turned, 
And  gazed  awhile  the  ample  sky." 

Thus,  after  a  night  of  charmingl}-  refreshing  and  undis- 
turbed repose,  with  spirits  innocenth'  ga}',  I  arose,  washed 
m}'  face  and  hands,  repeating  a  short  supplication,  which 
my  father  never  on  those  occasions  omitted  :  O  Almighty 
God,  who  hath  ordained  this  water}^  element  for  the  use 
and  support  of  nature,  by  which  I  am  at  this  time  re- 
freshed and  cleansed,  oh,  purif}^  my  soul  by  the  operation 
of  thy  blessed  Spirit,  as  a  well  of  water  springing  up  unto 
everlasting  life  !  "  I  then  retired  to  my  closet,  offering  the 
orisons  of  my  gladdened  heart,  and  habited  for  church.  I 
sat  down  to  my  book  until  my  father  made  his  appearance, 
when,  the  famil}'  being  summoned  and  the  morning  praj'er 
ended,  we  breakfasted  ;  but  it  was  a  light  report,  and  soon 
despatched.     At   eight  o'clock  I  attended    the    Methodist 


38  LIFE    OF  REV.  JOIIX  MURRAY. 

meeting;  at  half-past  nine,  returned  lionie  and  devoted 
the  time  to  reading  until  after  ten,  when  the  bell  sum- 
moned me  to  churcli  where  the  Methodists  at  that  time 
attended.  At  cliurch  I  was  remarked  for  my  devotion. 
From  the  churcli  I  returned  to  my  closet,  after  whicli  I 
read  the  Bible,  responding  to  the  interrogations  of  my 
father  relative  to  the  sermon  by  rei)eating  it  nearly  verba- 
tim. Dinner  over,  I  again  retired  to  my  closet,  from 
which,  by  my  father's  desire,  I  made  my  appearance  to 
read  for  him  some  devotional  book,  until  the  bell  again 
commanded  my  attendance  upon  public  worship ;  but,  to 
my  great  consolation,  I  liad  not  when 'I  returned  home,  as 
on  Sunday  sketched  in  a  former  page,  to  spend  the  residue 
of  the  day  in  saddening  glooms.  At  five  o'clock,  the 
Methodist  meeting  again  opened,  to  which  the  multitude 
flocked  ;  there  I  saw,  and  there,  with  affectionate  admira- 
tion, I  was  seen ;  there,  when  the  terrors  of  law  were 
exhibited,  I  was  delighted  by  the  assurance  of  eternal 
security  therefrom  ;  and  there,  wlien  the  children  of  the 
Redeemer  were  addressed  in  the  soothing  and  i)lausive 
strains  of  consolation,  my  heart  throbbed  with  pleasure, 
and  tears  of  transport  copiously  evinced  the  rapture  of  my 
soul.  Society  meeting  succeeded  the  close  of  public  ser- 
vice. Three  classes  of  the  peo})le  were  denominated 
Methodists :  the  congregation,  who,  as  outer-court  wor- 
shii:)pers,  were  only  hearers  and  seel'ers;  members  of  the 
societv,  Avho  Avere  classed;  and  members  of  the  band 
society,  who  were  genuine  believers.  The  two  latter  met 
every  Sunday  evening  after  meeting,  and  no  individual 
who  was  not  furnished  with  a  ticket  could  gain  admit- 
tance. This  ticket  was  a  badge  of  distinction;  it  gave 
the  possessor  entrance ;  all  others  were  shut  out,  and  the 


LIFE   OF  REV.   JOIIX  MURRAY.  39 

door  was  locked.  No  words  can  describe  my  sensations 
when  I  obtained  a  seat  i/tside  the  closed  door,  when  I 
listened  while  the  preacher  in  a  low  voice  addressed  the 
children  of  God.  The  house  was  not  unfrequently  filled 
with  the  dissonant  sounds  of  terror  and  joy,  issuing  from 
the  discordant  voices  of  tliose  who  were  in  the  valley  or 
on  the  mount.  From  this  society  I  returned  home,  to 
unite  in  family  devotion,  repeat  the  fundamental  points  in 
my  religion,  retire  to  my  private  devotions,  and  tlien  to 
bed.  Monday  morning  I  arose  at  five  o'clock,  and,  after 
the  same  preparation  as  on  Sunday,  attended  meeting, 
returned  to  breakfast,  occupied  myself  with  the  business 
of  the  day  until  dinner ;  and  after  dinner  an  interval 
passed  in  private  devotion  to  secular  affairs  again  until 
evening;  then  once  more  to  the  Methodist  meeting,  re- 
turned, attended  family  and  private  devotions,  and  to  my 
chamber,  often  not  to  rest,  but  to  my  book  till  midnight. 
Thus  was  my  time  spent,  two  evenings  in  the  week  ex- 
cepted, which  were  devoted  to  my  class,  and  one  night  in 
the  week,  when  the  society  assembled  as  on  Sunday  even- 
ing; but,  alas!  the  fervor  of  si)irit  excited  on  those  occa- 
sions cannot,  in  the  nature  of  things,  be  very  durable. 
There  were  individuals  in  my  class  who  proved  untoward; 
they  began  to  be  weary  in  well-doing.  This  Avas  a  source 
of  sorrow,  the  first  I  had  experienced  for  a  long  time; 
added  to  this,  repeated  complaints  reached  my  ear,  and 
not  unfrequently  slanderous  reports,  —  reports  one  against 
another.  This  tortured  me.  I  consulted  the  preachers. 
Disputes  ran  high  ;  the  interposition  of  parents  became  in- 
dispensable, and  the  class  was  broken.  This  was  a  severe 
trial.  I  had  derived  high  satisfaction  from  the  connection, 
and  from  the  fame  which  it  had  bestowed  upon  me.     I, 


40  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

however,  lost  no  reputation  ;  it  was  generally  believed  I 
had  performed  ray  duty,  and  that  no  boy  beside  myself 
would  have  kept  such  a  set  of  beings  together  and  in  such 
order  so  long. 

This  was  a  season  replete  with  events,  which  possessed 
for  me  no  common  interest.  Constantly  in  society,  I  formed 
many  attachments,  and  I  began  to  fear  that  the  love  of 
social  enjoyments  would,  like  Aaron's  rod,  swallow  up  my 
best  affections.  From  conviction  of  error,  I  sought  retire- 
ment. I  loved  reading  more  than  anything  else ;  but  I 
sighed  for  variety,  and  as  the  full  soul  loatheth  the  honey- 
comb I  began  to  sicken  at  the  constant  repetition  of  devo- 
tional books.  My  father  read  history  and  some  few  novels  ; 
but  he  took  special  care  to  secure  those  books  from  his 
children.  We  were  allowed  to  read  no  books  but  the  Bible, 
and  volumes  based  upon  this  precious  depository  of  what- 
soever things  are  good  and  excellent.  I  sometimes,  how- 
evei-,  glanced  my  eye  over  my  father's  shoulder,  and  find- 
ing "  Tom  Jones,"  or  the  "  History  of  a  Foundling,"  in  his 
hand,  the  efforts  at  concealment,  which  he  evidently  made, 
augmented  my  anxiety  to  read.  I  remember  once  to  have 
found  "  Clarissa  Harlow  "  upon  his  table.  "  Hervey's  Med- 
itations," and  "  Young's  Night  Thoughts,"  were  not  inter- 
dicted books,  and  their  plaintive  sadness  obtained  an  easy 
admission  into  the  inmost  recesses  of  my  soul.  To  Milton, 
too,  I  gave  some  hours  ;  but  I  could  not  read  blank  verse, 
nor  did  my  father  wish  to  encourage  my  attempts  in  this 
way.  He  saw  I  had  too  strong  passion  for  novelty,  and  he 
deemed  it  prudent  to  check  me  in  the  commencement  of  my 
career. 

Although  my  devotional  ecstasies  were  diminished,  yet  I 
was  stoadilv  attentive  to  my  religious  exercises,  and  I  be- 


LIFE    OF  REV.  JOHN  MURRAY. 


41 


lievecl  myself  daily  increasing  in  good.  It  is  true  my  life 
was  as  variable  as  the  weatlier ;  sometimes  on  the  mount, 
and  somethnes  in  the  valley ;  sometimes  alive  to  all  the 
fervor  of  devotion,  and  sometimes,  alas!  very  lifeless: 
now  rejoicing  in  hope,  and  anon  depressed  by  fear. 

The  preachers  visiting  the  adjacent  villages  often  re- 
quested my  father  to  permit  my  attendance.  His  consent 
delighted  me.  I  reaped  from  those  little  excursions  abun- 
dant satisfaction,  and  the  j^reachers  being  my  elders,  and 
much  acquainted  with  the  world,  I  collected  from  their 
conversation  much  to  instruct  and  amuse.  They  were, 
however,  young  men;  they  collected  young  company,  and 
they  were  excellent  singers.  This  was  a  most  j^leasing  cir- 
cumstance. My  affections  naturally  glowing,  I  soon  formed 
strong  attachments,  and  the  craft  of  JMr.  Wesley  changing 
his  candidates  with  every  pew  quarter,  the  farewell  sermons 
generally  dissolved  the  whole  congregation  in  tears,  and 
my  bosom  was  often  lacerated  ^vith  many  and  deep  wounds. 

An  order  from  the  bishop  now  arrived,  calling  upon  the 
people  to  prepare  for  confirmation,  and  young  persons  were 
directed  to  wait  upon  their  parish  minister  for  the  requisite 
instruction.  Although  the  Methodists  considered  them- 
selves Episcopalians,  yet  they  were  detested  by  the  clergy 
of  that  church ;  their  zeal  seemed  a  standing  satire  upon 
them ;  and  their  indignation  was  proportioned  to  the  prog- 
ress made  by  the  new  sect.  We,  however,  presented  our- 
selves as  candidates  for  confirmation.  Though  young,  I  was 
pretty  generally  known,  and  it  soon  became  evident  that  I 
had  incurred  the  displeasure  of  my  minister.  No  question 
was  pro])Osed  to  me,  but  his  oblique  reflections  were  abun- 
dant. I  determined,  however,  to  address  him;  and  one 
day  when  he  was  cautioning  those  wdio  were  honored  by  his 


42  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN   MURRAY. 

attention  against  those  expectations  about  which  the  wild 
enthusiasts  of  the  day  were  fanatically  raving,  such  as  the 
extraordinary  operations  of  the  Spirit,  etc.,  etc.,  exhorting 
them  to  consider  themselves  in  their  baptism  made  mem- 
bers of  Christ,  and  inheritors  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  I 
ventured  to  ask,  "  Did  I,  sir,  in  my  baptism,  receive  all  the 
advantages?"  In  a  most  ungracious  manner,  he  replied, 
''Undoubtedly."  —  "Then,  sir,  allow  me  to  ask,  what  can 
I  want  more  ?  Of  what  use  is  confirmation  ?  "  —  "  What  do 
you  mean  by  asking  these  impertinent  questions  ?  "  —  "I  ask 
for  information.  I  came  hither  to  be  instructed."  —  "  No, 
you  came  here  to  instruct  me  ;  you  want  to  see  your  patron, 
John  Wesley,  in  the  pulpit.  You  have  no  business  here."  — 
"  I  conceive,  sir,  I  have  business  here  ;  I  am  one  of  3^our 
parish.  I  was  warned  to  attend,  for  the  purpose  of  receiv- 
ing instruction ;  and  to  whom  sjiould  I  apply  but  to  my 
minister?"  He  deigned  not  to  answer  me,  but  when  we 
again  assembled,  I  observed,  "  I  remember,  sir,  when  we 
wxre  last  here,  you  told  us  there  was  no  such  thing  as  a 
feeling  operation  of  the  Spirit  of  God  ;  I  request,  therefore, 
to  know  how  we  are  to  understand  that  article  of  our 
church,  which  pronounces  the  doctrine  of  election  full  of 
espe'cial  comfort  to  all  godly  persons,  and  such  as  feel  in 
themselves  the  workings  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  ?  " — "  You 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  articles  ;  you  do  not  under- 
stand them."  —  "I  should  suppose,  sir,  that  ever}^  member 
of  a  church  had  something  to  do  with  the  articles  of  his 
church ;  and  if  I  do  not  understand  them,  suffer  me  to 
come  to  you  for  information."  —  "  You  are  an  impertinent 
fellow,  and  if  you  thus  proceed  I  shall  order  the  clerk  to 
put  you  out  of  the  church."  —  "You  may  order  me  out  your- 
self, sir :  only  tell  me  to  go,  and  I  will  instantly  depart. ' 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHy  MURRAY.  43 

Not  another  syllable  was  uttered  to  me  upon  this  occasion. 
But  upon  the  following  Sunda}',  when  the  young  people  of 
the  congregation  were  again  to  be  catechized,  I  appeared 
with  the  rest,  and  our  teacher  uttered  a  severe  and  pointed 
sarcasm.  I  was  sufficiently  abashed  to  cover  m}''  face  with 
my  hat,  when,  in  a  very  angry  tone,  he  commanded  me  to 
depart  from  the  church,  he  would  suffer  no  laughter  there. 
I  assured  this  Christian  preacher  that  I  did  not  laugh,  that 
I  felt  no  disposition  to  laugh.  He  insisted  that  I  did,  and 
with  great  confusion  I  withdrew  from  the  altar ;  but  wait- 
ing for  him  in  the  porch  of  the  church,  I  humbly  implored 
his  pardon,  while  I  informed  him  that  he  had  done  me 
much  wrong ;  that  I  had  too  sacred  a  veneration  for  the 
place  I  was  in,  to  deport  m3'self  unbecomingl}^  while  under 
its  roof;  that  I  had  not  the  smallest  inclination  to  mirth  ; 
that  the  consideration  of  his  denying  the  operation  of  the 
Spirit  upon  the  heart  had  too  much  disturbed  and  grieved 
me.  ''  Well,  I  do  still  say,  there  is  no  especial  operation 
of  the  Spirit ;  1  have  never  experienced  anything  of  this 
description." — "  How,  then,  suffer  me  to  ask,  could  you  say, 
when  you  were  ordained,  that  you  felt  3'ourself  moved  by 
the  Hoh"  Ghost  to  take  upon  you  the  office  of  a  teacher?" 
—  "  You  know  nothing  of  the  matter  ;  j'ou  are  very  imperti- 
nent." Many  were  standing  by,  who  seemed  pleased 
with  the  advantage  I  had  so  apparent!}^  gained,  and  while 
thus  remunerated  for  the  insult  1  had  received,  I  returned 
home  in  triumph. 

Some  time  after,  as  I  was  passing  the  street,  one  of  my 
acquaintance  asked  me  if  I  knew  the  bishop  was  at  that 
moment  engaged  in  confirming  the  young  people  of  our 
parish.  I  instantly  repaired  to  the  church,  and,  to  my 
great    surprise,  found   the    information   correct ;  my  good 


44  LIFE   OF  REV.  JOHX  MURRAY. 

priest  had  not  intended  I  should  be  apprised  of  the  busi- 
ness. I  advanced,  however,  to  the  altar,  and  presented 
myself  to  the  bislioj).  My  priest  appeared  exceedingly 
irritated,  and  made  a  communication  to  the  bishop,  in  a 
tone  too  low  to  be  understood  by  me;  but  his  lordship 
replied  aloud,  "It  is  of  no  consequence  what  they  are,  pro- 
vided they  understand  what  they  are  about."  From  this 
reply  I  concluded  the  priest  had  accused  me  of  Method- 
ism. It  happened  that  I  was  the  first  of  the  circle  \)yq- 
sented  round  the  altar,  and  he  began  as  follows:  — 

JSis/io]).  —  What  is  your  business  here? 

Murray.  —  My  lord,  when  I  was  baptized,  my  sponsors 
promised,  in  my  name,  to  renounce  the  devil  and  all  his 
works,  the  pomps  and  vanities  of  this  wicked  world,  with 
all  the  sinful  lusts  of  the  flesh.  They  engaged  also  that, 
so  soon  as  I  should  have  learned  the  creed,  the  Lord's 
prayer,  and  the  ten  commandments,  they  would  introduce 
me  to  this  ordinance.  As,  however,  they  have  neglected 
so  to  do,  I  beg  leave  to  present  myself. 

Bishop.  —  What  idea  have  you  of  this  ordinance  ? 

JSLirraii.  —  I  conceive,  my  lord,  that  the  engagements 
entered  into  at  my  baptism  cannot  be  fulfilled  without  the 
aid  and  o]>eration  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord;  and  I  am 
taught  to  consider  this  ordinance  as  a  means  of  grace, 
through  wliicli  I  may  obtain  tlie  aid  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  so 
requisite  to  my  well-doing. 

Bishop.  —  (With  a  softened  voice.)  Have  you  ever  been 
at  the  communion  ? 

Murray. — Yes,  my  lord,  and  aUhough  I  ventured  at 
first  with  fear  and  trembling,  yet  deriving  therefrom  real 
consolation.,  I  have  never  yet  absented  myself."  . 

"  You  are  right,"  said  the  bishop,  and  immediately  laying 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN   MURRAY.  45 

his  hands  upon  my  head,  he  prayed  for  me,  with  the  greatest 
apparent  fervor.  Turning  to  a  lad  who  stood  next  me,  he 
asked  him  the  same  question  he  had  previously  addressed  to 
me  ;  he  was  unprovided  with  an  answer.  "  This  is  astonish- 
ing," said  the  bishop.  "  I  should  have  thought  you  would 
at  least  have  learned  to  answer  from  the  3^outh  who  spoke 
before  you  ;  "  and  he  gave  my  priest  a  glance  which  called 
the  blush  of  confusion  into  his  face.  I  was  extremely  grat- 
ified ;  so  were  my  friends  in  general,  and  my  pious  father  in 
particular.  Mr.  John  Wesley  now  made  us  a  visit ;  he  paid 
me  the  most  distinguishing  attention,  and  the  regards  of 
such  a  man  were,  to  a  3^oung  heart,  truly  flattering.  He 
cherished  the  idea  that  I  should  shortly  become  a  useful 
laborer  in  the  field  which  he  so  sedulously  cultivated.  One 
thing,  however,  gave  him  anxiety,  —  the  probability  that  I 
had  imbibed  my  father's  damnable  principles,  for  such  he 
denominated  the  Calvinistic  tenets  ;  yet  he  hoped  better 
things  of  me,  and  things  which  accompanied  salvation. 
When  in  my  father's  house  he  manifested  toward  him  the 
greatest  kindness  and  friendship  :  but  on  leaving  the  coun- 
try he  charged  his  followers  to  keep  a  strict  watch  over 
him,  lest,  through  the  influence  of  his  great  piety,  he  should 
infuse  his  abominable  sentiments  into  the  minds  of  some 
of  the  brethren.  Mr.  Wesley's  disciples  considered  him 
the  apostle  of  the  age,  and  I  experienced  a  reverential  awe 
in  his  presence  ;  yet  there  were  points  in  his  conduct  which 
excited  my  wonder,  and  which,  in  any  other  character,  I 
should  not  have  hesitated  to  pronounce  wrong  ;  but  I  should 
have  believed  it  criminal  even  to  suspect  that  he  could  err. 
My  religion  was  becoming  more  and  more  formal ;  it  seemed 
a  body  without  a  soul.  Sometimes,  indeed,  when  listening 
to  a  lively,  warm-hearted  preacher,  I  was  made  most  keen- 


46  LIFE   OF  REV.   JOHX  MURRAY. 

ly  to  feci  the  poverty  of  my  condition ;  that,  while  I  was 
believed  rich  and  increasing  in  goods,  liaving  need  of  noth- 
ing, I  was  in  troth  miserably  pooi-,  blind,  and  naked.  This 
consideration  often  rendered  me  sad.  In  |)roportion  as  I 
appeared  to  suffer,  I  became  the  object  of  respectful  atten- 
tion. Glooms  and  melancholy  were  considered  as  infallible 
signs  of  a  gracious  disposition,  not  only  by  my  father,  but 
by  all  my  religious  connexions.  One  of  our  preachers,  used 
to  say,  he  had  rather  be  in  the  company  of  a  thousand 
demons  than  ten  laughing  persons  !  Unfortunately  for  the 
maintenance  of  my  standing  in  the  society,  my  sadness 
was  not  imiform,  and,  preserving  no  medium,  I  always 
became  gay  in  full  proportion  to  my  previous  depression; 
and,  in  truth,  cheerfulness  was  becoming  the  prevailing 
temper  of  my  mind,  and  I  know  not  liow  long  it  might  liave 
continued  so,  if  I  had  not  observed,  to  my  great  consterna- 
tion, that  I  was  daily  losing  ground  in  the  estimation  of 
my  associates.  This  conviction  banished  my  dangerous 
vivacity,  and  restored  my  respectability.  I  now  sedulously 
avoided  society,  and  frequently  envied  those  who  were 
released  from  this  dangerous  world.  I  have  often,  after  a 
night  of  suffering,  risen  with  the  dawn,  and,  entering  the 
church-yard,  have  passed  liours  there,  contemplating  the 
lia])})y  state  of  those  who  were  lodged  in  their  narrow  house, 
and  ardently  longing  to  be  as  they  were.  Even  my  father 
began  to  fear  that  I  was  rapidly  declining,  and  by  his  con- 
sequent tenderness  I  was  beyond  expression  touched. 

I  cannot  noAV  determine  how  long  this  frame  of  mind 
continued;  but  this  I  know,  that  it  lasted  long  enough  to 
gain  me  more  reputation,  both  at  home  and  abroad,  than 
I  had  lost.  There  was  such  a  variety  in  my  feelings,  the 
changes  in  my  spirits  from  sad  to  gay,  from  gay  to  sad, 


LIFE    OF  UEW   JOnS  MiUllAY.  47 

were  so  frequent,  that  I  had,  of  course,  far  more  experience 
than  any  other  person  of  my  age.  The  young,  when  under 
awakenings,  always  resorted  to  me  for  comfort  and  informa- 
tion, while  the  old  hung  with  delight  on  my  narrations. 
The  prayers  of  my  father  obtained  due  credit ;  the  child  of 
so  many  ])rayers  could  only  be  as  I  was.  I  was  at  this 
time  about  sixteen  years  of  age  ;  but  commencing  life  so 
early,  I  felt  like  twenty,  and  I  anticipated  all  the  enjoy- 
ments which  awaited  me. 

About  this  period  (1757)  our  society  was  gratified  by  a 
most  unexpected  acquisition.  A  gentleman  of  great  for- 
tune, who  had  been  a  virulent  opponent  of  the  Methodists, 
became  a  zealous  convert  to  their  tenets,  and  with  his  lady 
joined  our  congregation.  Xo  event  had  ever  given  such 
exultation,  such  complete  satisfaction.  They  had  belonged 
to  the  Presbyterian  meeting,  and  their  numerous  kindred, 
worshipping  there,  continued  inveterate  adversaries.  Be- 
tween my  father  and  the  new  convert  the  Avarmest  friend- 
ship took  place ;  and  his  good  lady,  who  was  indeed  one  of 
the  first  of  women,  l)ecame  as  warmly  attached  to  our 
family  as  her  husband.  They  had  been  converted  at  the 
same  time ;  and  as  new  converts  are  always  the  most  zeal- 
ous, this  good  couple,  although  advanced  in  years,  used  to 
rise  at  four  in  the  morning,  in  the  depth  of  winter,  and  go 
round  among  the  neighbors,  in  order  to  rouse  them  in  time 
to  attend  morning  service,  which  was  regularly  at  live 
o'clock,  winter  and  summer.  Our  house  being  in  the  Avay, 
they  never  omitted  calling  upon  us.  My  father  was  not 
always  well  enough  to  accomj^any  them,  but  I  never  failed, 
and  the  delight  they  took  in  me  -was  great.  Their  family 
consisted  of  two  sons,  one  older  than  myself,  and  one  of 
my  own  age,  and  two  daughters  younger  than  their  broth- 


48  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

ers.  For  a  long  season  this  family  and  ours  spent  at  least 
a  part  of  every  day  together.  They  met  constantly  at 
church,  and  had  beside  many  private  interviews.  Mr.  Lit- 
tle, the  name  of  our  new  friend,  belonged  to  a  class  of 
which  my  father  was  the  leader,  and  Mrs.  Little  to  my 
mother's  band.  The  classes  generall}^  consisted  of  twelve,' 
beside  the  leader.  The  band  was  formed  from  the  classes, 
and  consisted  of  six  beside  the  leader.  These  bands  were 
composed  of  true  believers,  and  of  one  sex  and  condition  : 
the  single  women,  the  married  women,  and  the  widows  ; 
the  single  men,  the  married  men,  and  the  widowers.  My 
mother  was  a  leader  of  a  band  of  married  women.  The 
youth  I  have  mentioned,  of  my  own  age,  sought  and  ob- 
tained my  confidence.  I  conceived  for  him  the  warmest 
affection,  and  1  had  every  reason  to  suppose  the  attach- 
ment mutual.  We  passed  many  delightful  hours  together, 
and  the  discovery  of  our  friendship  gave  real  satisfaction 
to  our  parents.  The  eldest  son  adhered  to  the  church  the 
famil}^  had  left ;  and  tne  only  daughter  who  was  of  age  to 
decide  embraced  the  principles  of  her  parents.  From  our 
connection  with  these  worthy  people  I  derived  great  pleas- 
ure. I  was  much  beloved  by  the  principals  of  the  family, 
and  I  had  great  delight  in  the  society  of  their  children. 
I  have  frequentl}^  retired  with  my  young  friend  to  read  and 
pray  ;  we  had,  in  fact,  no  solitary  pleasures.  It  was  in  the 
closet  of  this  friend  that  I  first  became  acquainted  with 
Addison,  Pope,  Parnell,  Thomson,  and  Shakespeare ;  we 
read  those  writings  together.  Never  shall  I  forget  the 
avidity  with  which  I  seized,  and  the  delight  with  which  1 
perused,  those  authors.  I  was  bej^ond  expression  fascinated 
by  their  numbers  ;  but  I  thought  best  carefully  to  conceal 
this  new  source  of  enjoyment  from  my  father.     The  library, 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  49 

to  which  I  thus  obtained  free  access,  was  very  extensive ; 
besides  the  books  already  named,  it  contained  much  to  at- 
tract a  young  mind :  novels,  essays,  and  histories,  by  a 
frequent  perusal  of  which,  I  was  both  informed  and  im- 
proved. Thus,  in  the  full  enjo3'ment  of  sweet  serenity, 
glided  on  man}'  liapp}^  months  ;  m}"  time  was  divided  be- 
tween the  habitation  of  m}^  father  and  his  friends.  I  en- 
joyed the  warm  regards  of  ever}'  individual  of  this  amiable 
famil}^,  the  eldest  son  excepted ;  nor  was  he  a  malignant 
foe ;  he  contented  himself  with  making  a  jest  of  our  devo- 
tion, which  only  served  to  attach  us  more  closely  to  each 
other ;  but  as  the  affection  of  the  3'oungest  son  grew  for 
me,  it  appeared  to  diminish  for  his  brother.  This  fact  ren- 
dered his  parents  unhappy,  and  I  mj'self  was  seriously 
afflicted,  lest  I  should  be  regarded,  either  directl}"  or  indi- 
rectl}',  as  the  source  of  their  inquietude.  They,  however, 
did  not  hesitate  to  impute  to  their  eldest  son's  aversion 
from  religion  everything  unpleasant  between  their  children, 
and  I  had  credit  for  my  full  share  of  that  rectitude  and  cor- 
rect conduct,  to  which  their  youngest  son  was,  by  nature, 
so  uniformly  inclined.  It  must,  however,  be  confessed, 
that  the  first-born  was  not  without  causes  of  irritation.  I 
was  evidently  the  brother  of  his  brother's  affection  ;  I  was 
the  object  of  his  parents*  regard.  His  eldest  sister  dis- 
covered, on  all  occasions,  a  very  strong  partiality  for  me, 
and  even  the  youngest,  a  child  of  about  six  3'ears  old,  made 
me  the  confidant  of  all  her  little  secrets,  often  hung  about 
my  neck  with  infantile  fondness,  while  her  sweet  endear- 
ments were  precious  to  my  heart.  It  was  not,  then,  I  re- 
peat, very  wonderful,  if  the  3'oung  gentleman,  who  felt 
himself  aggrieved^  should  become  very  unhappy,  and  very 
much  my  enemy.  While  I  was  thus  considered  as  a  child 
4 


50  L^^^    OF  REV.   JOHX  MURRAY. 

of  tliis  family,  a  young  lady,  a  distant  relation  of  Mrs. 
Little,  was  introduced  as  a  visitor ;  she,  also,  was  a  Metho- 
dist, and  of  great  piety.  My  young  friend  and  myself 
were  in  the  2)arlor  when  she  entered,  but  soon  withdrew, 
when  we  both  agreed  she  Avas  the  most  ordinary  young 
woman  we  had  ever  beheld.  She  w^as,  I  presume,  more 
than  twenty-five  years  of  age,  under  the  common  stature, 
of  a  very  sallow  comj^lexion,  large  features,  and  a  dis- 
agreeable cast  in  her  eye ;  yet  this  same  young  lady  had  not 
been  more  than  three  weeks  under  the  same  roof  with  us, 
before  we  both  became  violently  in  love  with  her.  Many 
days,  however,  elapsed,  before  either  became  acquainted 
with  the  passion  of  the  other ;  but  I  could  never  conceal 
anything  long,  especially  from  this  my  second  self ;  and  on 
a  summer  evening,  as  we  pursued  our  usual  walk  through  a 
flowery  mead,  on  the  margin  of  a  beautiful  river,  both  sadly 
pensive  and  sighing,  as  if  our  hearts  were  breaking,  my 
friend  mournfully  inquired,  "What,  my  dear  Murray, 
afflicts  you?  Why  are  you  so  sad?"  "I  am  ashamed  of  my- 
self; I  cannot  tell  you  the  cause  of  my  distress."  "Not  tell 
me!  would  you,  can  you,  conceal  anything  from  me?"  I 
felt  the  full  force  of  a  question,  asked  in  a  tone  of  endear- 
ing sympathy.  "No,  my  friend,  you  shall  be  made  ac. 
quainted  with  my  whole  heart.  I  will  have  no  reserves  to 
you^  but  2/ow,  you.,  also,  are  unhappy,  and  I  am  ignorant 
of  the  cause!"  "Depend  on  it,  I  shall  not  hesitate  to  give 
you  every  mark  of  confidence,  when  you  shall  set  the  exam- 
ple." "Well,  then,  my  brother,  my  friend,  will  you  not 
wonder  (and  indeed  I  am  myself  astonished)  when  I  as- 
sure you  that  I  have  conceived  for  Miss  Dupee  the  strong- 
est and  most  tender  passion !  "  He  started,  appeared  con- 
fused, and  for  some  moments  we  both  continued  silent.    At 


LIFE    OF  REV.  JOHN  MURRAY.  ^f 

length,  taking  my  hand,  he  said,  "I  pity  you,  from  my 
soul,  nor  do  I  blame  your  attachment ;  for,  however  unat- 
tractive in  person,  who  that  hears  Miss  Dupee  converse, 
who  that  has  any  knowledge  of  her  mind,  can  avoid  loving 
her,  even  as  you  love  her ;  and  to  prove  to  you  how  fully 
I  am  qualified  to  sympathize  with  you,  let  me  frankly  own 
that  I  also  love  this  charming  woman." 

This  unexpected  avowal  greatly  afflicted  me.  I  trem- 
bled lest  so  strong  a  passion  for  the  same  object  should 
eventually  prove  fatal  to  our  friendship.  I  expressed  to 
this  dear,  amiable  youth  my  aj^prehensions,  when  he  caught 
my  hand,  and  with  glistening  eyes  exclaimed,  "Xever,  my 
brother,  no,  never,  shall  anything  sej^arate  between  thee 
and  me.  By  first  communicating  your  sentiments,  you 
have  acquired  a  jyt'ior  right,  which  I  will  not,  dare  not,  in- 
vade. No  one  else  shall  hear  of  my  infant  love.  I  will  not 
allow  myself  to  see  her  but  when  seated  by  your  side ;  and 
although  I  love  her  more  than  anybody  I  ever  have,  or,  as 
I  believe,  ever  shall  see,  I  never  will  be  the  cause  of  your 
imhappiness."  This  generosity  was  truly  affecting.  I 
caught  him  to  my  bosom.  I  wept ;  I  even  sobbed  as  I  held 
him  to  my  heart ;  and,  unable  to  bear  his  superiority,  I 
exclaimed,  "  No,  my  noble-hearted  friend,  never  will  I  ac- 
cept such  a  sacrifice.  We  are  yet  to  learn  for  which  of  us 
her  heavenly  Father  has  designed  this  treasure.  Let  us 
both,  as  occasion  may  occur,  indulge  ourselves  in  her  soci- 
ety, and,  should  the  event  prove  that  you  are  the  highly 
favored  mortal,  I  hope,  and  believe,  I  shall  willingly  resign 
her,  and  content  myself  with  listening  to  her  heavenly 
accents."  And,  truth  to  say,  she  possessed  a  most  enchant- 
ing voice ;  a  most  fascinating  manner,  admirably  calculated 
to  gain  hearts,  especially  young  hearts,  simple,  and  soft- 


52  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

ened  by  religion  ;  and,  what  was  above  all  bewitching,  she 
sang  the  most  divine  of  Mr.  Wesley's  hymns  in  a  most 
divinely  impressive  manner.  While,  however,  we  were  mutu- 
ally acceding  to  this  wise  plan  for  the  disposal  of  Miss  Dupee, 
it  never  once  entered  into  our  heads  that  she  very  possiblv 
was  not  designed  for  either  of  us.  Perhaps  few  youthful 
bosoms  have  ever  endured  a  greater  conflict  between  lov- 
and  friendship.  We  experienced  both  in  no  common  degret 
but  friendship  in  both  our  hearts  became  triumphant.  The 
amiable  woman  continued  for  some  time  decidedly  the 
object  of  our  deliberate  election  ;  but  I  had,  however,  rea- 
son to  believe  my  attachment  the  strongest,  for  it  deprived 
me  of  both  rest  and  appetite.  For  the  first  time,  I  began 
to  tag  rhymes.  I  have  sat  by  the  hour  together  upon  an 
eminence,  whence  I  could  behold  her  habitation,  poetizing 
and  sighing  as  if  my  heart  would  break.  I  had  some  rea- 
son to  believe  she  had  discovered  and  was  diverted  with 
my  passion  ;  indeed,  she  must  have  laughed  at  me,  if  she 
had  not  despised  me.  After  a  long  struggle  between  my 
hopes  and  my  fears  I  ventured  to  address  a  letter  to  Miss 
Dupee,  filled  with  the  warmest  professions  of  eternal  affec- 
tion and  conjuring  her  at  least  to  grant  me  leave  to  hope, 
I  dared  not  entrust  a  domestic  with  this  letter,  lest  it  should 
be  discovered  by  m}^  father ;  for  the  dread  of  meeting  a 
refusal  from  my  mistress  was  not  more  terrible  to  m}^  imag- 
ination than  that  my  father  should  obtain  knowledge  of 
my  temerit}^  One  night,  therefore,  returning  from  the 
society  with  fear  and  trembling,  I  put  my  letter  into  her 
hand,  humbly  requesting  she  would  honor  it  with  a  secret 
perusal.  She  took  it,  and,  gypsy  as  she  was,  absolutely 
pressed  my  hand,  which  pressure  almost  suffocated  me  with 
transport.     I  parted  from  her  at  the  door,  and  from  that 


LIFE   OF  REV.  JOHX  MURRAY.  53 

moment  neither  slept  nor  ate,  till  I  was  cured.,  radically 
cured. 

It  was  upon  a' Wednesday  night  I  delivered  my  letter. 
What  did  I  not  suffer  from  the  torture  of  suspense,  until 
Friday  e v^ening !  Nothing  could  I  hear  of  or  from  her.  I  was 
afraid  to  go  to  Mr.  Little's.  I  feared  everything,  but  the 
thing  I  had  most  reason  to  fear,  —  the  contempt  and  indig- 
nation of  my  own  father.  It  never  once  entered  my  thoughts 
that  she  would  communicate  my  letter  to  any  one,  and,  least 
of  all,  that  slie  would  expose  me  to  my  father;  but  instead 
of  writing  me  an  answer,  such  an  answer  as  my  fond,  fool- 
ish heart  sometimes  ventured  to  expect,  she  enclosed  my 
very  first  love-letter  to  the  very  last  person  in  the  world  to 
whom  I  should  have  chosen  to  confide  it !  I  was  at  this 
time  debilitated  by  the  want  of  rest  and  food,  which,  for 
the  preceding  fortnight,  I  had  rarely  taken  ;  and  upon  this 
Friday  evening,  as  I  entered  the  presence  of  my  father,  an 
unusual  dread  pervaded  my  spirits.  It  is  too  true  I  never 
appeared  before  him  without  apprehension ;  but  upon 
this  occasion  I  was  unusually  agitated ;  but  how  were 
my  terrors  augmented,  when  my  father,  Avith  a  coun- 
tenance of  the  most  solemn  indignation,  ordered  me  to 
approach!  The  season  of  castigation  had  gone  by;  in- 
deed my  father  was  too  feeble  to  administer  corporeal 
chastisement ;  but,  like  the  Prince  of  Denmark,  although  he 
did  not  use  daggers,  he  could  speak  them  —  he  could  look 
them.  I  cannot  now  remember  who,  or  rather  how  many, 
were  present ;  my  mother,  and  my  brothers  and  sisters,  of 
course.  My  poor  mother,  I  am  confident,  felt  keenly  for  me, 
although  she  dared  not  interfere.  "Come  hither,  sir,"  said 
my  father ;  "approach,  I  say."  I  drew  near  with  fear  and 
trembling,  but  yet  I  knew  not  Avhy ;  when,  fixing  his  pierc- 


54  LIFE    OF   II KV.    JORX   MURRAY. 

ing,  peneti-ating  eyes  upon  me,  with  a  look  of  such 
sovereign  contempt  as  almost  struck  me  blind,  he  began 
very  deliberatel}^  to  search  his  pockets.  After  a  pause,  which 
seemed  interminable,  out  came  a  letter.  I  was  instantane- 
ously covered  witli  a  most  profuse  perspiration  ;  I  trembled, 
and  became  so  faint  that  I  was  obliged  to  catch  at  a  chair 
for  support.  But  my  father  continued  slowly  opening  the 
killing  letter,  and,  looking  alternately  at  it  and  its  author, 
and  curling  his  nose  as  if  his  olfactory  nerve  had  been  an- 
noyed by  something  extremely  offensive,  he  again  fixed  his 
eyes  upon  me,  and  tauntingly  said,  "  So,  you  poor,  fool- 
ish child,  you  write  love-letters,  do  you?  You  want  a  wife, 
do  you?  "  and,  feigning  an  attempt  to  read  it,  but  pretend- 
ing inabilit}^,  he  extended  it  to  me,  saying,  "  Take  it,  thou 
love-sick  swain,  and  let  us  hear  how  thou  addressest  thy 
Dnlcinea."  I  burst  into  tears  ;  but  I  confess  they  were  tears 
of  wrathful  indignation,  and  at  that  moment  I  detested  the 
lady,  my  father,  and  myself.  "  Go,"  continued  my  fathei*, 
—  ''go,  thou  idle  boy  ;  depart  instantly  out  of  my  sight ;  "  and 
out  of  his  sight  I  accordingly  went,  almost  wishing  I  might 
never  again  appear  before  him.  This  night  J  part.'d  with  my 
passion  for  Miss  Dupee.  I  sighed  for  an  opportunity  of 
opening  my  heart  to  my  ever-faithful  friend.  I  expected  con- 
solation from  him,  and  I  was  not  disappointed.  Suspecting 
this  business  was  the  subject  of  conversation  in  the  house  of 
Mr.  Little,  I  determined  to  go  tliither  no  more.  With  ni}^ 
friend,  however,  I  took  my  usual  walk.  He  perceived  the  sad- 
ness of  my  soul ;  but  it  was  a  consolation  to  me  to  learn  that 
he  was  ignorant  of  the  cause.  I  poured  my  grief  into  his 
bo-om,  and  his  indignation  was  unbounded.  Hatred  for  Miss 
Dupee  grew  in  his  soul ;  yet,  when  I  knew  she  had  the  good- 
ness never  to  connnunicate  my  folly  to  any  one  but    my 


LIFE    OF  EEV.    JOHN   MURRAY,  55 

father,  and  this  in  a  private  letter,  I  could  not  but  esteem 
her.  So  here  rested  the  affair,  and  I  wrote  no  more  love- 
letters,  until  I  addressed  the  lady  whom  I  married.  Though 
I  was  not  b}^  this  torturing  business  exempted  from  la  belle 
passion,  3^et  I  was  prevented  b}"  m}"  fears  from  its  manifes- 
tation. In  fact,  it  was  not  until  I  was  in  a  situation  to  make 
an  election,  as  I  supposed  for  life,  that  I  was  again  con- 
demned to  struggle  with  a  sentiment  so  imposing  as  that 
which  had  occasioned  me  so  much  vexation.  Many  fair 
faces  attracted,  and  for  a  time  fixed  my  attention,  and  I 
sometimes  looked  forward  to  the  brightest,  purest  scenes  of 
domestic  felicity,  which  were  however  as  visionary  as  could 
have  been  conceived  in  the  pericranium  of  the  most  con- 
firmed lunatic. 

The  religious  melancholy,  so  pleasing  to  my  father,  again 
took  possession  of  my  mind.  Once  more  at  early  dawn  I 
haunted  the  church-3^ard,  frequently  repeating  to  myself: — 

* '  The  man  how  blest,  who,  sick  of  gaudy  scenes, 
Is  led  by  choice  to  take  his  favorite  walk 
Beneath  death's  gloomy,  silent  cypress  shades, 
To  read  his  monuments,  to  weigh  his  dust, 
Visit  his  vaults,  and  dwell  among  the  tombs." 

The  intervening  hours  of  public  worship,  on  Sunday,  were 
passed  by  me  at  church,  in  appropriate  meditation  and 
prayer.  The  solemnity  of  the  place  aided  my  aspirations, 
and  rendered  me  abundantly  more  gloomy  ;  but  the  versa- 
tility of  my  disposition  still  gave  me  to  emerge,  and  I  was 
then  proportionably  vivacious.  In  this  zigzag  manner  I 
proceeded,  gaining  something  every  day,  while  I  enjoyed  a 
fine  state  of  health,  and  the  happiness  of  being  much  beloved 
b}^  a  large  circle  of  respectable  connexions.  I  still  contin- 
ued to  cultivate  my  garden ;  it  was  the  best  in  the  place, 


5G  LIFE   OF  REV.  JOHX  MURRAY. 

and  being  seen  and  admired  by  many,  my  pious  brethren 
were  apprehensive  it  would  become  my  idol.  But  we  all  have 
our  idols.  Mr.  Wesley  was  the  idol  of  the  many.  One 
evening  at  a  love-feast,  when  the  whole  society  were  assem- 
bled, a  pious  sister,  while  narrating  her  experiences,  looking 
earnestly  at  Mr.  Wesley,  vehemently  exclaimed,  "  O,  sir, 
I  consider  myself  as  much  indebted  to  God  for  you  as  for 
Jesus  Christ ! "  The  whole  company  were  greatly  surprised, 
and,  as  I  believe,  expected  Mr.  Wesley  would  have  reproved 
her  for  this  speech;  but  it  passed,  without  any  then  ex- 
pressed observation.  The  ensuing  day  it  became  the  sub- 
ject of  animadversion,  when  I  undertook  to  defend  her,  by 
remarking,  that  as  she  never  could  have  had  any  advan- 
tage from  Jesus  Christ,  if  she  had  never  heard  of  and 
believed  in  him,  slie  certainly  was  as  much  indebted  to 
Almighty  God  for  sending  Mr.  Wesley,  through  whom  she 
obtained  this  redeeming  knowledge,  as  for  the  Saviour,  in 
whom  she  believed  ! 

My  close  connection  with  my  young  friend,  although  very 
pleasant  to  my  social  propensities,  subjected  me,  neverthe- 
less, to  some  pain.  He  was  indulged  \\\t\\  more  pocket- 
money  than  I  could  command.  And  although  he  con- 
sidered liis  stipend  never  so  well  employed  as  when  it 
contributed  to  my  convenience,  yet,  disliking  dependence, 
I  had  recourse  to  methods  of  obtaining  money,  which  did 
not  always  please  me.  I  sometimes  borrowed,  and  some- 
times solicited  gifts  from  my  mother,  which  I  did  not  find 
it  easy  to  repay.  It  would  liave  been  well  if  neither  my 
companion  nor  myself  had  been  in  the  habit  of  spending 
money;  we  derived  therefrom  no  advantage:  it  introduced 
us  into  company,  where  we  were  apt  to  forget  ourselves. 
It  is  true  we  were  never  inebriated,  but  we  were  often  i^nv, 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MUBRAT.  bl 

and,  for  religious  characters,  too  much  off  our  guard.  This 
dear  youth  was  not,  like  me,  liabituated  to  religion  ;  he  was 
not  early  disciplined  by  its  most  rigid  laws.  I  could  with 
abundantly  more  facility  turn  aside  with  him  than  he  could 
pursue  with  me  the  narrow  path  in  which  I  had  generally 
walked.  We  became  gradually  too  fond  of  pleasures  which 
would  not  bear  examination ;  yet  the}'  were  such  as 
the  world  denominated  innocent^  although  they  strongh^ 
impelled  us  to  gratifications  disallowed  by  religion.  We 
were  now  fast  advancing  in  life,  and,  with  all  the  enthusiasm 
of  youth,  we  were  planning  schemes  for  futurity,  when  lo  ! 
my  precious,  my  early  friend  was  seized  by  a  malignant 
fever,  which  soon  deprived  him  of  his  reason.  I  was  on 
the  verge  of  distraction.  I  entreated  permission  to  tarry 
constantly  b}^  his  bedside.  The  progress  of  the  disease  was 
astonishingly  rapid,  and  in  a  few  daj's  this  dear,  this  amiable 
youth,  wliom  I  loved  as  my  own  soul,  expired  in  a  strong 
delirium  !  Every  one  regretted  the  departure  of  this  3'oung 
man  ;  ever}^  one  sympathized  with  his  parents,  and  many 
extended  pity  to  me.  I  was  indeed  beyond  expression 
wretched.  It  was  the  first  calamit}-  of  the  kind  which  I 
had  ever  been  called  to  suflTer ;  and  my  agonies  were  in  full 
proportion  to  the  strong  aflTection  which  I  had  conceived 
for  the  deceased.  Society  no  longer  possessed  a  charm 
for  me,  and  yet  the  parents  of  the  dear  departed  never  will- 
ingly permitted  me  to  quit  their  presence  ',  indeed,  the  love 
they  had  borne  their  son  seemed  to  be  entirely  transferred 
to  me ;  but  their  sufferings  were  incalculably  augmented, 
when,  in  a  few  succeeding  weeks,  their  eldest  and  only 
surviving  son  fell  a  victim  to  the  same  fatal  malady  which 
had  deprived  them  of  his  brother.  Never  before  did  I  wit- 
ness  such    sad  and  heart-affecting  sorrow  !     A  gloomy  re- 


58  ^IFE   OF  REV.   JOHX  MURRAY. 

ligion  is  always  increased  by  scenes  of  melancholy ;  hence 
tlie  horrors  of  my  mind  were  beyond  description.  Every- 
thing I  had  done,  every  word  I  had  uttered,  not  strictly 
conformable  to  the  rule  of  right,  returned  upon  my  mind 
with  redoubled  terror,  and  in  the  midst  of  these  agonizing- 
fears  I  was  violently  seized  with  the  same  fever  which  had 
destroyed  my  friend.  I  was,  upon  the  first  appearance  of 
this  mortal  disease,  exceedingly  alarmed,  but  in  a  few 
hours  it  prostrated  my  reason ;  my  mother  appeared  to  me 
as  a  stranger,  and  although  I  recognized  my  father,  I  was 
not  afraid  of  him.  I  understood  everything  which  was 
said  by  those  about  me,  and  I  suffered  much  in  consequence 
of  their  expressed  apprehensions  and  predictions.  And  I 
have  often  thought  that  attendants  in  the  chamber  of  sick- 
ness do  not  sufficiently  consider  the  situation  of  the  suffer- 
ing patient,  or  the  possibility  that  the  freedom  of  their 
remarks  may  augment  his  depression.  I  continued  to 
linger,  in  the  midst  of  extreme  torture,  through  many  weeks ; 
and  so  high  and  unremitted  was  my  delirium,  that  my 
parents,  from  a  persuasion  that,  should  I  be  restored  to 
healtli,  my  reason  was  forever  lost,  were  reconciled  to  my 
departure.  One  particular  I  consider  as  astonishing, — 
everything  which  passed  in  my  mind,  through  the  whole 
of  tliis  protracted  delirium,  I  can,  to  this  day,  recollect  as 
well  as  any  event  which  has  taken  place  in  any  part  of  my 
life.  Contrary  to  the  expectations  of  surrounding  friends, 
I  was  gradually  restored  to  perfect  health,  Avhen  I  became 
still  more  endeared  to  the  parents  of  my  deceased  com- 
panion ;  they  would  have  laid  me  in  their  bosoms,  gladly 
cherishing  me  as  the  son  of  their  affection.  The  old  gentle- 
man visited  my  father  every  day,  and  his  lady  was  equally 
intimate  with  my  mother.     I  wept  with  them,  I  prayed 


LIFE   OF  REV.   JOHN  MURRAY.  59 

with  them,  and  every  day  our  mutual  attachment  acquh*ed 
new  energy.  They  expressed  their  wishes  to  my  father, 
that  I  shoukl  become  a  permanent  resident  in  their  family. 
My  father,  apparently  terrified,  was  unqualified  in  his  re- 
jection! It  would  injure  me  by  too  high-raised  expecta- 
tions; iL  would  give  me  indulgences  fatal  to  my  future 
peace  and  happiness.  For  myself,  I  had  recently  enter- 
tained an  exalted  opinion  of  my  father;  and  for  liis  re- 
peated, and,  as  I  once  believed,  severe  chastisements,  grati- 
tude glowed  in  my  bosom  ;  consequently  I  was  not  inclined 
lu  act  contrary  to  his  wishes  in  any  respect,  and  he  had 
sufiicient  address  to  avoid  offending  his  friends.  In  fact, 
so  exalted  was  their  opinion  of  his  wisdom  and  piety,  that 
tliey  would  have  considered  it  criminal  to  censure  him. 

I  was  now  the  very  shadow  of  my  father.  I  visited,  it  is 
true  ;  but  it  was  always  under  his  guardian  care.  He  be- 
gan to  derive  pleasure  from  conversing  with  me,  and  our 
satisfaction  was  mutual.  Still,  however,  I  experienced,  in 
his  i)resence,  more  of  reverential  awe  than  filial  tenderness; 
yet  I  gained  more  from  his  society  in  the  last  six  months  of 
his  existence  than  I  had  for  many  preceding  years.  His 
gradual  decline  at  length  rapidly  advanced ;  suddenly  he 
became  too  much  enfeebled  to  go  abroad.  His  friends,  who 
were  numerous,  visited  him  frequently.  Mr.  Little  and 
lady  were  almost  constantly  with  him.  They  congratulated 
him  that  God  had  heard  his  prayers,  and  given  him  a  son 
to  supply  his  place  when  he  should  be  called  home.  This, 
indeed,  he  considered  as  a  great  consolation.  Often  with 
tears  of  pleasure  has  he  wept  over  me,  solemnly  consecrat- 
ing me  by  fervent  jji'^yer  and  devout  supplication.  His 
devotional  exercises  in  his  family  were  continued  until  the 
last  week  of  his  existence.     Even  when  his  voice  was  sa 


60  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

low  that  he  could  scarce  articulate  a  word,  we  were  drawn 
around  him,  when  in  whispers,  as  it  were,  he  would,  in  the 
most  moving  manner,  address  the  throne  of  grace  in  our 
behalf;  and  for  me,  as  his  first-born  son,  his  orisons  were 
still  more  frequentl}^  offered  up,  and  alwa3's  with  tears. 
For  man}'  years  ra}^  father  had  lost  his  apprehensions  of 
death  ;  but  he  alwa3's  suffered  more  or  less  in  the  dread  of 
djing.  The  taking  down  the  house  of  his  earthly  taberna- 
cle ;  the  agonies  of  dissolving  nature,  —  these  anticipa- 
tions frequently  appalled  his  soul.  We  had  got  into  Pas- 
sion Week ;  my  father  was  taken  from  his  bed  every  day 
until  Good  Frida}-,  when  it  was  impressed  upon  his  mind 
that  he  should  be  with  his  Redeemer  upon  Easter  Sunday. 
He  indirectly  communicated  this  assurance  to  my  mother, 
commanding  me  to  be  immediately  summoned  to  his  pres- 
ence, when  he  thus  addressed  me :  "  My  son,  the  object  of 
m}^  soul's  affection,  for  whom,  during  many  years,  I  have 
wept  and  prayed,  3'ou  see  your  weeping,  prating  father, 
now  totally  unable  to  utter  a  prayer,  nor  shall  I  ever  pra}' 
in  this  dear  family"  again.  Let  me,  my  dear,  before  I  leave 
you,  have  the  felicitj'  of  seeing  and  hearing  3'ou  take  upon 
3'ou  the  character  3'ou  will  very  speedil}'  be  called  to  sus- 
tain ;  let  me  hear  you  pra3^  in  the  famil3'  before  I  depart." 
There  was  something  terrible  in  the  thought  of  his  depart- 
ure, though  we  had  for  man3'  years  been  taught  to  expect 
it,  not  only  b3^  his  declining  health,  but  by  his  conversa- 
tion, which  had  rendered  us  familiar  with  death.  I  cannot 
remember  a  da3^  on  which  he  did  not,  on  his  first  appear- 
ance in  his  family  of  a  morning,  say,  ^^  Blessed  be  God,  we 
are  one  day  nearer  our  eternal  rest."  Yet  the  thought  of 
assuming  his  place  in  his  family,  in  his  presence,  —  this 
was  more  terrible  to  me  than  death  itself.     I  became  con 


LIFE    OF  liEV.  JOilX  MURRAY.  Q\ 

vulsecl ;  a  cold  perspiration  was  diffused  over  my  frame. 
My  father  saw  my  agony,  and,  bidding  me  sit  down,  took 
my  hand,  and,  addressing  me  in  the  language  of  sympathy, 
most  affectionately,  most  tenderly  said,  "  You  have,  my 
poor  boy,  often  addressed  your  heavenly  Father,  and  have 
not  felt  abashed.  Ought  you  to  venerate  your  feeble,  earth- 
ly father  more  than  the  God  who  made  you?  At  the 
throne  of  grace  I  am  upon  a  level  with  my  son,  and  I  need 
redeeming  mercy  as  much  as  yourself.  Let  me,  my  dear 
child,  be  blessed  with  the  privilege  of  seeing  and  hearino- 
you  in  your  new  and  highly  responsible  character  this 
night."  I  was  dumb,  I  could  not  speak.  My  mother  was 
requested  to  summon  the  family.  "  Come,"  said  my  father, 
"come  near  me,  my  children.  God  is  about  to  remove 
from  you  your  father,  your  supplicating  fatlier ;  but  my 
God,  your  God,  will  never  leave  you  nor  forsake  you.  He 
will  give  you,  in  your  brother,  a  friend,  a  guide,  a  father ; 
you  must  consider  him,  when  I  am  gone,  as  in  my  stead. 
You  will  unite  with  him  in  prayer,  you  will  follow  his  direc- 
tion, and  God  will  abundantly  bless  you  together.  My 
prayers  on  his  behalf  are  graciously  answered.  They  will, 
my  beloved  children,  be  answered  on  your  behalf  also ;  for 
he  who  hath  promised  is  faitliful,  your  father  hath  proved 
him  faithful.  Our  God  is  indeed  worthy  to  be  trusted. 
His  service  is  perfect  freedom.  Serve  the  Lord,  my  chil- 
dren, and  be  happy;  obey  your  dear  mother,  strengthen 
the  hands  of  your  brother,  and  felicity  will  be  your  por- 
tion." He  would  have  proceeded,  but  weakness  prevented. 
Recovering  himself,  he  called  upon  me  to  make  good  his  ex- 
pectations. I  kneeled  down  by  his  bedside  in  convulsive 
agony,  my  mother  kneeling  upon  the  opposite  side;  my 
brothers  and  sisters  formiusf  a  circle  Avhich  surrounded  it. 


Q2  LIFE   OF  RE  V.  JOHX  MURRA  Y. 

while  the  domestics  kneeled  near  us.  I  prayed,  I  wept,  I 
audibly  sobbed ;  while  my,  only  not  divine,  father  was  in 
ecstasy.  When  I  had  finished,  "Xoav,  O  Lord,"  he  ex-, 
claimed,  "let  thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  for  mine  eyes 
have  seen,  for  my  ears  have  heard,  for  my  heart  has  felt, 
thy  salvation.  Come  near  me,  my  darling  boy."  Instantly 
I  ran,  and  again  I  kneeled  by  his  bedside ;  he  drew  my 
head  to  his  bosom  ;  he  wept  over  me ;  but  his  tears  were 
tears  of  transport,  when,  laying  his  dying  hand  upon  my 
head,  he  thus  fervently  supplicated:  "O  thou.  Almighty 
God,  who  hath  thus  blessed,  greatly  blessed,  thy  poor  ser- 
vant; thou  who  hast  been  my  God  and  my  guide,  even 
unto  death,  bless,  oh  !  bless  this  son,  with  whom  thou  hast 
blessed  thy  feeble  supplicant.  Give  him  thy  suj^porting 
l^resence  through  life,  direct  him  in  the  way  he  should  go,  • 
and  never  leave  him  nor  forsake  him.  Father,  Son,  and 
Holy  Ghost,  thou  covenant-keeping  God,  bless,  bless,  oh, 
bless  this  lad  —  "  Here  his  heart  swelled  too  big  for  utter- 
ance ;  after  a  few  moments,  recovering  himself  a  little,  he 
mildly  requested  me  to  place  him  properly  in  his  bed.  I 
was  beyond  measure  shocked  to  see  what  a  skeleton  he  had 
become,  his  bones  in  many  places  through  his  skin. .  It  was 
my  wish  to  tarry  with  him  through  the  night ;  but  I  could 
not  obtain  permission.  "Go,  my  dear  son,"  said  he,  "go 
to  rest,  and  the  God  of  your  fathers  be  ever  with  you." 
This  was  the  last  time  I  ever  heard  his  voice  ;  before  the 
morning  dawned  I  was  summoned  to  attend,  not  a  dying, 
but  a  deceased  parent,  whose  value  until  that  agonizing 
moment  I  had  never  sufficiently  appreciated.  My  mother 
continued  by  his  bedside,  overwhelmed  by  sorrow.  The 
slumbers  of  my  father  were  sweet,  calm,  and  unbroken, 
until  near  midnight,  when  she  perceived  he  was  awake,  and 


LIFE   OF  REV.   JOIIX  MURRAY.  (33 

believing  him  to  be  speaking,  she  inclined  her  ear  to  his 
lips,  and  heard  him  say,  while  his  heart,  his  full  heart, 
seemed  nearly  bursting,  "The  souls  of  believers  are  at 
tlieir  death  made  perfectly  holy,  and  do  immediately  pass 
into  glory ;  but  their  bodies,  being  still  united  to  Christ, 
do  rest  in  their  graves  till  the  resurrection."  After  a 
pause,  he  resumed:  "At  the  resurrection,  they  shall  be 
openly  acknowledged,  and  acquitted  in  the  day  of  judg- 
ment, and  made  perfectly  blessed  in  the  full  enjoyment  of 
God  through  eternity.  Blessed,  perfectly  bless  —  "  Blessed, 
he  would  have  said,  but  he  breathed  no  more.  "When  I 
approached  the  bed  of  death,  I  beheld  the  remains  of  the 
dei)arted  saint  precisely  in  the  position  in  which  a  few 
hours  before  I  had  placed  him.  Not  a  single  struggle  had 
the  dear,  apprehensive  man,  during  those  expiring  moments, 
which,  through  his  whole  life,  he  had  expected  would  be 
productive  of  such  extreme  torture.  He  slept  in  Jesus,  in 
full  confidence  of  a  glorious  resurrection. 

From  this  hour  until  the  interment  our  house  was 
thronged ;  but  of  all  our  numerous  friends,  who  by  their 
presence  expressed  their  sympathy,  no  individuals  appeared 
more  deeply  affected  than  my  future  patrons,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Little.  My  father  was  very  dear  to  Mr.  Little ;  he  mingled 
his  tears  with  the  widow  and  her  orphans.  It  was  unneces- 
sary to  tell  me  I  had  sustained  an  irreparable  loss ;  my 
heart,  my  pierced  heart,  was  every  moment  making  the 
avowal.  I  could  now  fully  appreciate  my  father's  worth. 
I  felt  I  was  bereaved,  miserably  bereaved ;  left  to  myself; 
and  I  knew  myself  well  enough  to  justify  the  most  sj)irit- 
wounding  apprehensions.  I  retired  to  my  chamber,  to  my 
closet,  secretly  indulging  my  overwhelming  sorrow,  and  if 
I  ever  experienced  the  fervor  of  devotion,  it  was  then, 


64  LIFE   OF  REV.   JOHN  MURRAY. 

when,  throwing  abroad  my  supplicating  hands,  I  petitioned 
the  God  of  my  father  to  be  my  God  also,  entreating  that  he 
would  graciously  vouchsafe  to  preserve  me  from  myself,  my 
sinful  self.  All  the  hard,  undutiful  reflections  which  I 
had  secretly  tolerated  against  this  good,  this  honored  man, 
while  he  was  enduring  exquisite  sufferings  for  the  purpose 
of  preserving  me  from  evil,  rushed  upon  my  recollection, 
and  an  innate  monitor  seemed  to  say,  "You  may  now, 
ungrateful  boy,  go  where  you  please;  the  2)rying  eye  of  a 
father  will  no  more  inspect  your  conduct."  It  was  now,  in 
these  moments  of  torture,  that  my  father,  as  it  should 
seem,  first  became  known  to  me.  It  is  true,  he  was 
severely  good  ;  his  conscience  was  indeed  sorely  tender ; 
but,  as  far  as  he  knew,  he  performed  the  will  of  God,  at 
least  in  as  great  a  measure  as  he  was  able,  and  when  he 
believed  himself  deficient,  as  he  almost  always  did,  it  gave 
him  great  pain.  The  uniform  sanctity  of  his  life  com- 
manded the  respect,  the  esteem,  the  affection,  and  even  the 
veneration  of  all  who  knew  him.  He  possessed  an  uncom- 
mon share  of  natural  abilities,  and  his  acquirements  were 
very  respectable.  He  had  read  much.  History,  Natural  Phi- 
losophy, Poetry,  these  were  all  familiar  to  him ;  but  the 
sacred  Scriptures,  and  books  of  devotion,  were  his  delight. 
Human  productions  constituted  his  amusement.,  but  the 
Avord  of  his  God  was  liis  food.  He  was  so  acute  a  rea- 
soner  that  it  was  diflicult  to  gain  any  advantage  over  him 
in  argument ;  yet  he  was  easily  provoked,  but  immediately 
sensible  .of  error.  Every  deviation  from  propriety  was 
marked  by  tears.  He  had  so  much  self  command  ^^  never 
to  strike  a  child  in  a  passion  ;  this  he  denominated  a 
demoniac  sacrifice.  He  would ^rs^  correct  the  angry  man; 
but,  liowever  painful  the  act,  he  never  omitted  what  he  con- 


LIFE   OF  REV.  JOIIX  MURRAY.  g5 

ceived  it  his  duty  to  bestow.  He  was  a  very  tender- 
liearted  man, .  and  his  prayers  were  rarely  unaccompa- 
nied by  tears.  He  mourned  with  the  mourner,  for  lie 
was  himself  a  man  of  sorrow.  Being  for  the  last  nineteen 
years  of  his  life  a  confirmed  invalid,  he  was  constantly 
and  fervently  looking  toward  his  heavenly  home,  —  some- 
times with  impatience,  when,  correcting  himself,  he  would 
say,  "Well,  well,  heaven  is  worth  waiting  for;  one  hour 
passed  in  the  courts  of  my  God  will  be  a  rich  remunera- 
tion for  all  terrestrial  sufferings." 

It  is  the  custom  in  Ireland,  when  any  person  of  distinc- 
tion or  respectability  is  called  out  of  time,  to  watch 
around  the  remains,  nigJit  as  well  as  day,  until  the  body 
be  entombed.  The  remains  of  my  father  were  affection- 
ately attended;  but  they  were  attended  in  an  uncommon 
manner.  As  he  differed  from  others  in  life,  so  these  last 
lionors  differed  from  those  usually  bestowed.  The  morn- 
ing immediately  succeeding  hi§  demise,  our  friends  and 
neighbors  assembled  in  our  dwelling,  when  Mr.  Little  thus 
addressed  them  :  "My  friends,  it  hath  pleased  God  to 
take  unto  himself  the  soul  of  our  beloved  brother.  As  he 
lived,  so  he  died,  a  pattern  of  excellence.  We  know,  we 
feel^  that  he  has  not  left  his  equal.  We  unite  with  this 
dear  family  in  sensibly  lamenting  the  departure  of  our 
experienced  friend,  our  guide,  our  comforter."  Here  he 
mingled  his  tears  Avith  those  of  our  attendant  friends. 
After  a  long  pause,  he  proceeded :  "Fellow-mourners,  the 
greatest  respect  we  can  pay  to  the  remains  of  our  inesti- 
mable, our  heavenly  guide,  is  to  pass  our  time  together  in 
this  house  of  mourning,  not  only  for  him,  but  for  our- 
selves, in  the  way  which  would  be  most  pleasing  to  him, 
were  he  present ;  we  will,  therefore,  apj^ropriate  our  hours 


66 


LIFE   OF  REV.  JOHX  MURRAY. 


to  reading  and  to  prayer.  One  of  our  brethren  will 
address  the  throne  of  grace,  after  which  I  will  read  a  ser- 
mon, the  production  of  Mr.  Erskine,  of  whose  writings 
the  dear  departed  was  remarkably  fond."  The  prayer, 
the  sermon,  the  concluding  prayer,  deeply  affected  every 
one ;  and  the  evening  witnessed  a  renewal  of  these  pious 
exercises.  Thus  were  our  nights  and  days  devoted  until 
the  interment.  On  that  day  the  throng  was  j^rodigious. 
The  worth,  the  good  actions  of  my  father  were  the  theme 
of  many  a  tongue.  His  praises  were  echoed,  and  re- 
echoed, while  tears  of  sorrow  moistened  many  an  eye. 
Every  one  bore  in  his,  or  her,  hand  to  the  graveyard  a 
sprig  of  bays,  which,  after  the  body  was  deposited,  was 
thrown  over  the  coffin.  But  no  words  can  describe  my 
agonizing,  my  terrific  sensations,  when  I  reflected  upon  the 
charge  which  had  devolved  upon  me.  I  remembered  my 
father's  words  on  the  evening  preceding  his  exit,  and  I  felt 
myself  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  assuming  his  place  in 
the  family.  But  how  much  was  I  to  suffer  by  comparison 
with  him  whose  place  I  was  appointed  to  fill !  Yet,  had  I 
wished  to  avoid  entering  upon  my  office,  my  mother,  the 
friends  of  my  father,  would  have  borne  testimony  against 
me.  They  thronged  around  me,  they  entreated  me  imme- 
diately to  take  charge  of  the  family,  and  to  commence  my 
arduous  task  by  devout  supplications  to  Almighty  God. 
I  complied  with  their  united  wishes ;  but  no  tongue  can 
utter,  no  language  can  delineate,  the  strong  emotions  of 
my  soul ;  again  I  was  convulsed,  again  I  agonized ;  the 
whole  family  were  inexpressibly  affected.  It  was  the 
most  melancholy  evening  I  had  ever  experienced.  But 
my  benighted  spirit  was  suddenly  refreshed  by  a  ray  of 
consolation,  emitted  by  the  cheering  hope  that  my  father's 


LIFE   OF  REV.   JOHX  MURRAY.  gy 

God  would  be  my  God,  and  that  the  fervent  prayers  he 
liad  offered  up  in  my  behalf  would  be  answered  in  my 
favor.  I  was  encouraged,  too,  by  my  mother,  and  by  the 
friends  of  my  father,  w-ho  besought  the  Lord  in  my  be- 
half, and  who  were  daily  reminding  me  of  the  interest 
which  my  deceased  j^areut  unquestionably  had  with  the 
prayer-hearing  God. 

Yet,  although  soothed  and  greatly  stimulated,  my  new 
employment  continued  to  distress  and  appall  my  spirit. 
The  conviction  of  every  day  assured  me  that  I  Avas  un- 
equal to  the  arduous  task  I  had  undertaken.  My  mother 
was  my  ever-ready  aid  and  counsellor;  but  my  brothers. 
and  sisters  always  remembered  that  I  was  7iot  their  father; 
and  they  were  highly  displeased  whenever  I  presumed  to 
exercise  over  them  paternal  authority.  Yet  this  I  be- 
lieved to  be  my  duty;  and,  that  I  might  be  in  everything 
like  my  father,  I  took  up  the  rod  of  correction,  seriously 
chastising  my  brother,  for  the  purpose  of  restoring  him  to 
the  narrow  path  from  which  he  had  wandered.  But, 
although  I  had  learned  of  my  father  to  use  the  rod,  I  never 
could  make  it  answer  the  same  purpose ;  in  my  hand,  it 
only  served  to  increase  the  evil;  it  became  the  signal  of 
revolt ;  and,  while  my  brother  continued  incorrigible,  my 
other  brothers  and  my  sisters  enlisted  on  his  side.  My 
mother,  dear,  honored  sufferer,  was  exceedingly  distressed. 
She  had,  in  fact,  a  difficult  part  to  act.  She  was  fearful 
M'hichever  side  she  might  espouse  would,  by  creating  new 
irritation,  make  bad  icorse;  and  yet,  upon  an  occasion  so 
interesting,  we  would  not  allow  her  to  be  silent ;  she  must 
positively  attend  to  our  appeals.  But,  however  arduous 
her  task,  she  possessed  discretion  sufficient  to  meet  it,  and 


,. 


6g  LIFE   OF  REV.  JOHN  MURRAY. 

to   produce   an  ultimatum  completely  satisfactory  to  all 
parties. 

She  re])lied  to  our  remonstrances  by  a  request  to  be 
allowed  until  the  evening  succeeding  our  complaints  for 
serious  deliberation.  The  interesting  evening  came. 
"  Come,  my  children,  —  all  equally  dear  to  my  soul,  —  come, 
tlie  doors  are  now  shut ;  this  is  the  time  of  evening  ser- 
vice. There  is  the  chair  which  your  pious,  your  affection- 
ate father  once  filled.  Can  you  remember  the  last  time  he 
addressed  you  from  that  seat  ?  Let  me,  my  dear  children, 
let  me  repeat,  as  well  as  my  memory  will  permit,  what  he 
said  to  us  the  last  time  he  addressed  us  from  that  chair. 
'Come,'  said  he,  'come  near  me,  my  children,'  when,  fold- 
ing his  arms  around  your  elder  brother,  and  pressing  him 
to  his  bosom,  while  shedding  over  him  abundance  of  tears, 
and  pouring  out  his  soul  in  supplication  for  him,  he  most 
affectingly  said,  'I  am,  my  dear  child,  hastening  to  that 
heaven  for  which  I  have  so  long  waited.  For  you,  ever 
since  you  were  born,  I  have  wept  and  prayed ;  graciously 
hath  my  God  inclined  his  ear  to  the  voice  of  my  supplica- 
tion. He  hath  blessed  me  by  giving  me  to  see  you,  before 
I  die,  prepared,  by  divine  favor,  to  take  my  place.  I  leave 
you,  my  dear  son,  to  act  a  father's  part  when  I  shall  be 
here  no  more.  Let  your  mother,  your  brothers,  and  your 
sisters,  receive  from  you  that  attention  and  care  they  can 
no  more  obtain  from  me.  But,  although  I  shall  be  no  more 
with  you,  your  God,  your  father's  God,  will  never  leave 
nor  forsake  you.  Nay,  my  own  beatified  spirit  may  ob- 
tain increasing  felicity,  by  being  sometimes  permitted  to 
behold  the  order  and  harmony  of  my  beloved  family,  while 
collected  before  the  throne  of  grace,  with  the  love  of  God 
and  love  of  each  other  glowing  with  divine  ecstasy  in 


LIFE   OF  REV.  JOHN  MURRAY.  (39 

every  bosom.'  It  was  then,  my  precious  cbilclren,  that 
your  devout  fatlier  clasped  you  separately  to  his  bosom ; 
you  remember  how  he  then  spake  to  you:  'I  go,  my  be- 
loved children.  You  will  no  more  hear  my  voice  from  this 
chair.  I  shall  no  more  be  able  to  pray  with  you,  to  advise, 
or  to  direct  you.  But,  my  children,  I  leave  with  you  a 
brother,  who  will  perform  to  you  the  part  of  a  father.  I 
leave  him  in  my  place.  It  is  my  command  that  he  tread 
in  my  steps  as  far  as  I  have  proceeded  in  the  path  of  jus- 
tice ;  and,  my  dear  children,  I  conjure  you  to  attend  to  his 
directions.  The  eldest  son  was,  of  old,  the  priest  in  the 
family  of  his  father.  And  if  you  love  me,  if  you  love 
your  mother,  if  you  would  prove  your  love  to  God,  or  even 
to  yourselves,  contribute  all  in  your  power  to  strengthen 
the  hands  of  your  brother.'  You  remember  he  then  em- 
braced each  of  you  and  wept  over  you ;  and  I  pray  you 
to  remember  that  you  then  solemnly  promised  to  perform 
all  which  your  dying  father  directed  you  to  perform. 
Perhaps  the  saint  may  be  at  this  moment  beholding  us  in 
this  very  spot,  in  which,  a  few  days  previous  to  his  de- 
parture out  of  time,  he  so  affectingly,  so  tenderly  admon- 
ished us  — "  My  mother  paused,  as  influenced  by  sacred 
awe  of  the  presence  she  had  supposed.  We  audibly  wept, 
we  rushed  into  each  other's  arms,  we  embraced  each  other ; 
and  so  long  as  we  continued  together,  our  affection,  our 
piety,  and  our  devotion  were  uninterrupted. 


CHAPTER  II. 

RECORD  CONTINUED,  UNTIL  THE  AUTHOR'S  DEPARTURE  FROM 
IRELAND. 

Launched  from  the  shore,  on  life's  rough  ocean  tost, 
To  my  swollen  eye  my  star  of  guidance  lost; 
Torn  from  my  grasp,  my  path-directing  helm, 
While  waves  succeeding  waves  my  prospects  whelm. 

By  the  malpractices  of  the  second  husband  of  my  ma- 
ternal grandmother,  a  large  share  of  my  mother's  patrimony 
passed  into  other  hands.  I  accidentally  obtained  intelli- 
gence of  some  fraudulent  proceedings  of  the  great  personage 
by  Avhom  it  was  then  holden.  We  did  not  possess  ability 
to  support  a  prosecution  for  the  recovery  of  our  rights. 
Some  time  after  the  demise  of  my  father,  the  person  who 
resided  upon  the  estate  was  sued  for  rent.  To  this  person 
I  communicated,  in  confidence,  what  I  knew  to  be  fact. 
I  assured  him  the  great  man  who  retained  the  estate  had 
no  legal  claim  to  it ;  and  I  advised  him  not  to  pay  the  rent. 
He  followed  my  ad.vice,  and  the  business  came  before  a 
court  of  judicature.  The  gentleman  who  sued  the  tenant 
summoned  me,  as  a  witness,  to  prove  that  the  tenant  had 
occupied  the  house  the  specified  number  of  years.  Thus  I 
was  unexpectedly  present  at  the  trial,  and  the  interference 
of  Providence  produced  a  result  far  beyond  our  most  san- 
guine expectations.  The  tenant  denied  the  right  of  the 
landlord  to  demand  the  rent,  alleging,  that  if  he  j^aid  it  to 

70 


LIFE   OF  REV.  JOHX  MURRAY.  ^J 

him  he  might  hereafter  be  compelled  to  pay  it  to  another. 
"  To  whom  ?  "  interrogated  the  court.  "  To  Mrs.  Murray 
and  her  children,  to  Avhom  the  estate  in  question  properly 
belongs."  I  was  called  upon  for  an  explanation,  a'nd  I 
boldly  pledged  myself  to  prove  the  truth  of  the  testimony 
delivered  by  the  tenant ;  adding  that  I  could  make  such  a 
statement  as  would  render  the  affair  abundantly  clear  to 
their  honors.  I  was  immediately  silenced  by  the  lawyers 
upon  the  opposite  side,  who  produced  a  deed  of  the  con- 
tested property,  signed,  sealed,  and  delivered.  I  then 
requested  the  indulgence  of  the  honorable  court,  while  I 
observed,  that,  as  I  Avas  not  sufKciently  opulent  to  procure 
counsel,  I  presumed  to  solicit  permission  to  plead  my  own 
cause.  Full  consent  was  unhesitatingly  granted ;  when  I 
proved,  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  court  and  jury,  that  this 
deed  Avas  signed  after  the  death  of  the  husband  of  my 
grandmother ;  and  further,  that,  had  the  man  been  living, 
the  right  of  disposal  was  not  vested  in  him.  I  consumed  a 
full  hour  and  a  half  in  unfolding  a  scene  of  wickedness 
not  to  be  defended ;  and  I  closed  by  grateful  acknowledg- 
ments to  their  honors  for  the  patience  they  had  exercised. 
The  jury  retired,  and  speedily  returned  with  a  verdict  in 
favor  of  the  tenant.  I  immedicvtely  entered  my  claim,  and 
a  trial  commenced,  which  terminated  in  my  favor;  and  I 
not  only  obtained  the  house  in  question,  but  two  others,  in 
like  circumstances,  to  the  no  small  satisfaction  of  the  pub- 
lic and  the  mortification  of  the  great  man  and  his  lawyers. 
We  immediately  took  possession  of  the  house ;  and  our 
utmost  gratitude  to  that  God  who  had  interjDOsed  for  us 
was  most  powerfully  excited.  Here  I  had  a  very  large, 
and,  in  no  long  time,  a  very  well-improved  garden,  abound- 
ing with  everything  useful  and  beautiful ;  herbs,  fruits,  and 


^2  LIFE   OF  HE  V.  JOHX  MURRA  Y. 

flowers,  in  great  abundance ;  and  my  situation  was  fully 
adequate  to  my  wishes.  Harmony  presided  in  our  family ; 
but,  alas !  gradually,  as  by  common  consent,  we  grew  more 
careless  of  our  domestic  duties,  and  more  attentive  to  jjub- 
lic  affairs ;  deriving  a  kind  of  amusement  from  what  was 
passing  abroad,  which  Ave  could  not  obtain  at  home.  We 
had  many  visitors,  and,  consequently,  we  frequently  vis- 
ited ;  yet  no  individuals  were  so  dear  to  us  as  were  Mr. 
Little  and  his  amiable  family.  I  have  repeatedly  observed 
that  both  Mr.  Little  and  his  lady  had,  from  tlie  death  of 
their  sons,  regarded  me  even  with  parental  affection.  I 
was  only  not  an  inmate  in  their  dwelling;  and,  but  for  the 
charge  which  the  demise  of  my  father  had  devolved  upon 
me,  they  would  not  so  long  have  delayed  proposals,  which, 
in  a  most  serious  manner,  they  ultimately  made  to  my 
mother.  3Ir.  Little  was  rather  advanced  in  years.  He 
commenced  his  career  without  property ;  but  he  was  pru- 
dent and  industrious ;  his  lady  was  equally  so.  She  brought 
her  husband  no  more  than  one  hundred  pounds  sterling; 
but  slie  was  a  portion  in  herself.  Althougli  uncommonly 
economical  and  careful,  her  charities  were  yet  very  exten- 
sive. She  could  assist,  she  observed,  the  children  of 
penury  without  loss ;  for  her  resource  was  her  own  aug* 
mentcd  industry.  Wlien  tliis  amiable  cou])le  became 
known  to  us  they  possessed  immense  wealth  ;  and  they 
had  now  but  two  surviving  children,  —  daugliters.  We 
were  i)assing  a  pleasant  evening  in  their  hospitable  dwell- 
ing, throwing  the  eye  of  retrospection  over  past  scenes, 
until  our  hearts  were  greatly  softened.  The  departed  sons, 
the  deceased  husband  and  father,  passed  in  review,  and 
were  alternately  the  subject  of  conversation  and  regret. 
At  length  Mr.  Little  thus  addressed  us  :  "  I  have  lost  my 


LIFE   OF  llEV.   JO  fix  MURRAY.  73 

sons,  and  I  have  long  viewed  you,  my  young  friend,  in  the 
stead  of  my  buried  children.  It  is  true,  I  have  many 
nephews,  and  I  am  urgently  solicited  to  receive  one  of  them 
under  my  roof;  but  I  do  not  feel  a  freedom  so  to  do, 
although  I  must  absolutely  have  some  one  to  assist  me  in 
the  arrangement  of  my  affairs;  and  I  now  tender  to  you, 
my  dear  young  man,  to  yon,  who  have  so  long  been  beloved 
by  every  individual  of  my  family,  —  I  offer  to  you  the 
place  of  a  son  in  my  house,  in  my  heart.  And  if  you, 
madam,  will  consent,  and  your  son,  thus  sanctioned,  will 
accept  my  proposal,  he  shall  immediately  tai^e  possession 
of  the  apartment  of  his  deceased  friend  (my  lamented  son), 
and  I  shall  bless  God  fur  thus  making  up  my  loss."  Mrs. 
Little,  who  sat  by  bathed  in  tears,  most  cordially  united  her 
solicitations.  The  offer  was  too  great  to  be  rejected.  We 
accepted  it  with  becoming  gratitude,  and  what  rendered  a 
proposal  so  liberal  abundantly  more  pleasing,  was  an 
appearance  on  the  part  of  our  benefactors  of  having  re- 
mi'ec?  instead  of  conferred  an  obligation.  I  attended  my 
mother  home  with  mingled  sensations  of  pain  and  pleas- 
ure:  pnin,  from  the  consideration  that  I  was  leaving  a 
family  which  I  had  been  accustomed  to  view  as,  in  a  very 
tender  sense,  my  own,  and  with  which  I  should  never, 
perhai^s,  in  like  manner,  again  associate ;  pleasure,  from 
the  reflection  that  I  was  entering  upon  a  new  scene  of  life, 
from  which  T  had  a  prospect,  not  only  of  independence,  but 
afiiuence.  It  is  true,  upon  my  departure,  which  took  place 
upon  the  succeeding  morning,  I  wept  bitterly;  so  did  my 
widowed  mother  and  her  children;  and  my  tears  again 
flowed,  upon  entering  the  apartments  of  my  dear  young 
friend,  Avith  whom  I  had  passed  so  many  pleasing  hours. 
But  I  was  received  by  my  new  parents  and  sisters  as  the 


74  LIFE   OF  REV.  JOHN  MURRAY. 

dearest  of  sons,  and  as  the  brother  of  their  affection.  Joy 
soon  exhilarated  my  spirits,  and  brightened  upon  my  coun- 
tenance. I  had  the  warm  congratulations  of  all  my 
friends ;  for  it  was  noised  abroad  that  this  very  opulent 
gentleman  had  adopted  me  as  his  son,  and  they  went  so 
far  as  to  add,  his  son  and  heir.  All  this  was  very  pleasing 
to  me,  but  the  kindred  of  Mr.  Little  were  of  course  highly 
irritated ;  and  I  became  so  much  the  object  of  their  envy 
and  their  hatred,  that,  whenever  they  visited  their  uncle, 
without  deigning  to  speak  to  me,  they  studiously  sought 
opportunities  of  insulting  me.  This  gave  me  pain,  but  it 
did  me  no  real  injury  ;  for,  upon  every  instance  of  invidi- 
ous conduct  toward  me,  my  parental  friends  and  their 
family,  especially  their  daughters,  studiously  augmented 
their  testimonies  of  esteem  and  affection. 

After  I  had  passed  some  months  with  Mr.  Little,  he  was 
visited  by  a  young  preacher  just  entering  the  sacerdotal 
character,  to  whom  I  was  much  attached,  and  our  friend- 
ship was  mutual.  I  was  prevailed  upon  by  this  preacher 
to  accompany  him  upon  a  little  journey.  I  departed  with 
tlie  sanction  of  my  patron.  I  had,  in  the  societies  with 
which  I  had  been  connected,  occasionally  exhorted  ;  and  I 
had  been  frequently  urged  by  several  of  their  preachers  to 
aid  them  in  their  labors.  L^pon  this  journey  I  was,  if  I 
may  so  express  myself,  absolutely  ensnared.  Accompany- 
ing my  friend  to  the  assembled  congregation,  with  an 
expectation  of  hearing  him,  he  put  his  arm  under  mine, 
and  helj^ting  me  to  ascend  the  temporary  pulpit  erected  for 
the  occasion,  he  suddenly  quitted  me,  and  I  was  in  a  man- 
ner constrained  to  speak  to  the  multitude.  Thus,  for  the 
first  time,  I  preached  to  a  large  concourse  of  serious  and 
attentive   hearers    in    public;    and,    although    at   the    ap- 


LIFE   OF  REV.   JOHX  MURRAY.  75 

pointed  time  I  returned  to  my  much-loved  home,  I  con- 
tinued, as  oi^portunity  offered,  from  that  time  forward, 
preaching  wlienever  I  journeyed,  and  even  at  home  wlien 
necessitated  by  the  absence  of  the  preacher.  This  made 
some  noise  in  our  little  world ;  but,  as  it  was  not  displeas- 
ing to  my  honored  friends,  I  was  not  dissatisfied.  My  in- 
veterate enemies,  however,  being  the  nearest  relations  of 
the  family  in  which  I  resided,  were  constantly  endeavoring 
to  undermine  my  interest  in  the  heart  of  their  kinsman. 
I  was  to  pass  some  time  in  a  neighboring  city ;  and,  to 
render  my  visit  more  pleasing,  my  patron,  at  my  depar- 
ture, furnished  me  with  a  sum  of  money.  This  sum  T  care- 
lessly put  into  my  pocket  without  examination,  until,  call- 
ing in  my  way  upon  my  mother,  I  discovered  that  my 
patron  had,  as  I  supposed,  made  a  capital  mistake,  —  that 
he  had  given  me  gold  instead  of  silver.  I  mentioned  this 
circumstance  to  my  mother  in  presence  of  one  of  her 
neighbors;  and,  without  announcing  my  design,  I  imme- 
diately returned  home  for  the  purpose  of  rectifying  the 
error.  Upon  my  unexpected  appearance  before  Mr.  Little 
with  information  of  his  mistake,  he  smiled,  and  said  that 
he  never  kept  his  gold  and  silver  together.  "  It  was  my 
desi^rn,"  said  he,  "  to  give  you  gold ;  but  I  advise  you  not 
to  throw  it  awav."  I  pursued  my  journey  and  passed  my 
time  airreeably ;  but  whether  I  threw^  away  the  bounty  of 
my  benefactor,  I  do  not  at  this  j)eriod  recollect.  I  only 
know  that  I  brought  not  a  shilling  home  with  me ;  in  fact, 
I  was  never  sufficiently  sensible  of  the  value  of  money  to 
retain  it  in  my  possession.  I  was  received,  on  my  return 
from  this  visit,  with  uncommon  pleasure ;  and  some  time 
after,  my  kind  patron,  taking  me  into  his  private  apart- 
ment, thus  addressed  me:  "I  need  not,  my  dear,  inform 


7 (J  LIFE   OF  REV.   JOHN  MURRAY. 

you  that  you  have  many  enemies,  and  I  regret  to  say  that 
those  enemies  are  among  my  nearest  relatives  ;  but  con- 
tinuing in  the  j^aths  of  rectitude,  you  will  be  beyond  the 
reach  of  their  most  malignant  calumnies.  Soon  after  you 
left  home  the  other  day,  the  clergyman  who  has  recently 
become  the  husband  of  my  niece  called  upon  me  request- 
ing a  private  audience;  and,  Avhen  retired  into  this  room, 
he  observed  that  he  conceived  himself  in  duty  bound  to 
apprise  me  that  I  was  not  sufficiently  acquainted  Avith  the 
cliaracter  of  the  person  I  had  adopted;  tliat  he  was  not 
honest;  that  he  had  obtained  money  from  me  to  wdiich  he 
had  no  right.  'You  gave  him,  sir,  as  you  believed,  some 
pieces  of  silver;  but,  upon  examination,  they  proved  to  be 
guineas.  Tliis  fact  I  can  prove  ;  and,  if  he  could  thus  act, 
what  may  lie  not  do?'  I  told  this  officious  gentleman  that 
I  had  really  intended  to  give  you  gold ;  but  that  you,  con- 
ceiving I  had  made  a  mistake,  forbore  to  appropriate  the 
money,  and  speedily  returned  home  for  the  purpose  of 
making  tlie  communication.  Our  clergyman  departed, 
and,  you  will  easily  conceive,  not  a  little  liumbled.  I 
mention  tliis  cii'cumstance  to  you,  my  son,  to  put  you 
upon  your  guard.  It  is  my  wish  that  in  future  you  should 
not  be  so  communicative."  Tliis  little  anecdote  was  ex- 
ultingly  repeated  to  me  by  the  good  lady  and  her  daugh- 
ters, who  never  failed  triumphantly  to  report  every  little 
occurrence  wdiich  they  believed  would  contribute  either  to 
my  pleasure  or  reputation. 

My  establishment  in  this  family  rendered  me  an  object 
of  envy,  even  among  some  of  my  religious  connections. 
Objections  were  raised  against  my  supposed  erroneous  sen- 
timents. I  was  more  than  suspected  of  retaining  my  father's 
Calvinistic  doctrines.     Mr.  AYesley  received  information 


LIFE    OF  REV.  JOHN  MCIUIAY.  'JJ 

against  me.  He  set  a  watch  over  me  ;  tlius  fixing  upon  me 
the  evil  eye  of  suspicion.  A  maiden  sister,  considerably 
advanced  in  years,  became  a  dependent  resident  in  the 
family  of  her  brother.  Her  character  was  marked  by 
duplicity,  and  she  delighted  in  mischief.  The  tales  she 
propagated  were  as  vai-ious  as  the  parties  which  listened 
to  her  narrations ;  and  all  lier  communications  were  made 
under  the  strict  seal  of  secrecy.  Young  and  unsuspect- 
ing, I  found  it  difficult  to  encounter  enemies  of  such 
oj^posite  descriptions.  I  had  some  friends,  of  Avhose  affec- 
tion I  doubted  not ;  with  these  friends  I  passed  much 
time,  and  I  communicated  to  them  everything,  and  they, 
in  their  turn,  communicated  everything  to  me ;  while 
many  circumstances  tlius  confided  were,  to  my  great 
astonishment,  in  circulation.  My  situation  became  un- 
easy to  me.  I  was  fond  of  being  in  company  abroad  : 
this  was  very  disagreeable  to  my  friends  at  home.  They 
expected  in  me  a  friend  and  companion,  who  would,  by 
reading  and  conversation,  give  to  their  fireside  new 
charms ;  and  both  parents  and  daughters  were  mortified 
and  disappointed.  Mr.  Little  expressed  his  disapproba- 
tion of  my  frequent  Jibsences.  I  was  hurt.  Mrs.  Little 
shed  tears,  and  entreated  me  to  change  my  conduct. 
"  You  have,"  said  she,  "  in  this  wide  world  no  such  friends 
as  we  are  disposed  to  prove  ourselves ;  you  will  be  abun- 
dantly more  happy  at  home  than  you  can  be  abroad.  You 
should  supply  to  us  the  place  of  our  deceased  children ; 
we  expect  consolation  from  your  society.  You  are  greatly 
beloved  in  this  house ;  your  enemies  are  not  under  this 
roof.  For  God's  sake,  if  you  have  any  regard  for  us ;  if 
you  have  any  regard  for  any  of  your  friends ;  if  you  would 
secure    your   own    happiness,  or  the   happiness    of   your 


LIFE    OF  llEV.  JOHX  MURRAY. 


mother,  do  not  thus  conduct."  Thus,  Avith  many  en- 
treaties, did  this  dear,  affectionate  Lady  endeavor  to  arrest 
my  wandering ;  and  while  attending  to  her  friendly  lec- 
tures my  best  resolutions  were  in  full  force,  and  I  deter- 
mined never  to  offend  again.  But,  going  out  to  meeting, 
one  and  another  of  my  religious  connections  would  take 
me  by  the  arm.  I  could  not  avoid  engagements ;  and 
when  I  returned  home,  every  individual  of  the  family, 
Miss  Little  excepted,  had  frequently  retired  to  rest. 
The  good  girl  waited  to  apprise  me  of  her  father's  dis- 
pleasure. Much  did  she  expostulate ;  and  her  expostula- 
tions were  not  always  unmingled  with  tears.  My  mother 
was  rendered  extremely  wretched.  I  saw  the  gathering 
storm,  but  I  had  not  sufficient  fortitude  to  abide  its  rav- 
ages. My  enemies  derived  consolation  from  my  indiscre- 
tion, and  my  infelicities  daily  augmented.  Whenever  I 
was  censured  I  was  rendered  more  abundantly  unhappy ; 
nnd  I  formed  a  serious  resolution  to  quit  both  the  family 
of  Mr.  Little  and  the  country,  and  to  seek  an  asylum  in 
my  native  place,  —  England.  For  many  days  I  contiimed 
-obdurate ;  no  remonstrances  could  influence  me.  I  must 
absolutely  commence  a  traveller ;  I  must  go  to  England. 
I  had  no  object,  yet  I  must  depart  for  England ;  I  could 
not  tell  why,  indeed.  It  was  believed  I  was  distracted. 
What,  relinquish  fortune,  and  such  connections,  and  such 
a  prospect  ?  —  for  it  was  generally  believed  that  I  was  to 
be  united  in  marriage  with  Miss  Little.  Nay,  her  father 
was  informed  by  his  kindred  that  I  was  absolutely  clan- 
destinely seeking  to  gain  the  affections  of  the  young  lady, 
and  that  they  believed  I  was  already  in  possession  of  her 
heart.     But  Mr.  Little  gave  no  credit  to  this  report ;  he 


LIFE   OF  REV.   JOHX  MURRAY  79 

knew  that  my  evenings  were  passed  abroad,  and  that  this 
was  the  only  source  of  dissatisfaction. 

It  happened,  however,  one  evening  when  I  had  been  out 
late,  and  he,  according  to  custom,  retired  to  rest,  I  found, 
on  my  return  home.  Miss  Little  waiting  in  the  parlor,  for 
the  purpose  of  making  a  communication,  which  she  con- 
ceived would  be  of  consequence  to  me.  We  sat  some  time  in 
conversation  by  which  we  were  mutually  interested.  She 
made  known  to  me  the  invidious  remarks  of  her  uncles  and 
aunts,  and  their  displeasure  at  her  for  not  uniting  Avith 
them  in  their  sentiments.  She  dwelt  upon  the  grief  which 
my  inattention  to  the  wishes  of  her  parents  occasioned 
them ;  and  upon  this  part  of  her  subject  she  became  affected 
even  to  tears.  I,  also,  was  greatly  affected,  and  for  the 
first  time  in  my  life,  taking  her  hand,  I  impressed  upon  it 
a  kiss  of  fraternal  affection,  when,  to  our  great  astonish- 
ment, her  father  entered  the  apartment.  Had  we  seen  a 
spectre  we  could  not  have  been  more  appalled.  He  stood 
for  some  moments  speechless,  until,  fixing  his  eyes  in- 
dignantly on  my  face,  which  was  certainly  covered  with 
confusion,  in  a  very  pointed  and  significant  manner  he 
said,  "  So,  sir!''  and  taking  his  daughter  by  the  hand,  he 
conducted  her  from  the  parlor,  leaving  me  to  my  own  re- 
flections. TTords  are  inadequate  to  the  description  of  my 
agonies  during  the  residue  of  that  night.  An  idea  of  Miss 
Little  in  any  other  character  than  that  of  a  very  dear 
sister  had  never  crossed  my  mind.  Yet  suspicion  was 
now  furnished  with  a  weapon  against  me,  which  would 
abundantly  enforce  the  report  retailed  to  Mr.  Little  by 
his  kindred.  I  have  often  wondered  that,  at  an  age  so 
susceptible  of  impression,  I  did  not  become  more  warmly 
attached  to  Miss  Little.     She  was  a  most  lovely  and  amia- 


gQ  LIFE   OF  REV.   JOHN  MURRAY. 

ble  young  woman.  And  she  certainly  gave  me  every 
reason,  which  a  modest,  delicate,  and  sensible  female  could 
give,  to  believe  she  was  not  absolutely  disinclined  to  listen 
to  a  tale  of  love.  My  apathy  can  only  be  accounted  for 
by  a  recurrence  to  an  unquestionable  fact :  my  heart  was 
wholly  engrossed  by  my  religious  connections.  I  passed 
this  memorable  night  in  my  chamber  without  entering  my 
bed.  I  descended  the  stairs  in  the  morning  with  the  feel- 
ino-  of  a  malefactor.  I  dreaded  the  sight  of  every  one  in 
the  house.  Mr.  Little  saw  me,  but  spake  not  to  me.  Mrs. 
Little  addressed  me  in  the  language  of  kindness.  Their 
daughter  was  not  present,  and  I  am  persuaded  she  was  not 
reduced  to  the  necessity  oi  feigning  indisposition  as  a  pre- 
tence for  absence.  After  breakfast  Mrs.  Little,  in  a  whis- 
per, directed  me  to  retire  into  the  back  parlor,  where  she 
would  speedily  join  me.  With  trembling  dread  I  obeyed. 
She  soon  appeared;  the  shutters  were  closed,  just  light 
enough  to  see  her,  and  be  seen  by  her.  I  saw  she  had 
been  in  tears  :  she  was  a  most  kind-hearted  lady.  I  could 
not  speak.  She  commanded  me  to  be  seated.  I  drew  a 
chair  for  her,  and  another  for  myself.  She  sat  down,  and 
I  seated  myself  by  her.  After  a  pause,  she  began  :  "  Tell 
me,  I  conjure  you,  tell  me  what  I  ought  to  understand  by 
the  appearances  of  this  morning.  Answer  honestly  the 
questions  I  shall  put  to  you ;  but  I  know  your  answers 
will  be  literally  true.  My  poor  girl  is  very  much  dis- 
tressed ;  her  father  is  very  reserved  and  very  sad  ;  he  will 
make  no  reply  to  my  inquiries,  and  my  child  is  also  silent. 
Tell  me,Irepeat,what  is  the  matter?"  —  "I  came  home  late 
iast  night,  madam.  N"o  one  was  up  but  Miss  Little,  who, 
like  an  affectionate  sister,  informed  me  she  had  something 
to   communicate   to  me,  with  which  I  ought  to  be  ac- 


LIFE   OF  REV.  JOHX  MURRAY. 


81 


quaintecl.  I  listened  to  her  till  I  became  greatly  affected 
with  what  I  heard,  and,  deeply  sensible  of  her  goodness, 
we  were  mingling  our  tears,  when,  thus  thrown  off  my 
guard,  I  regi-et  to  say  that  I  am  ai^prehensive  I  committed 
an  unpardonable  offence.  I  am  mortified,  Avhile  I  confess 
to  you,  my  dear  madam,  that  I  had  the  boldness  to  press 
to  my  lips  the  dear  hand  which  seemed  extended  to  rescue 
me  from  indiscretion.  But,  indeed,  my  dear  lady,  it  was 
the  first  time  I  ever  dared  to  take  so  great  a  liberty, 
and  I  would  give  the  world  I  had  not  then  been  guilty  of 
so  much  temerity.  At  the  moment  Mr.  Little  entered,  I 
felt  as  if  I  should  have  sunk  under  liis  indignant  glance. 
Miss  Little  was  greatly  discomi)osed,  wdiile  her  father, 
with  a  voice  rendered  tremulous  by  anger,  significantly 
said,  'So,  sir!'  and  conducted  his  daughter  out  of  the 
room.  This,  my  dear  lady,  is  the  whole  I  know  of  the 
matter.  I  fear  Miss  Little  will  never  formve  me  for  ere- 
afinr/  her  so  much  distress.  I  had  infinitely  rather  be  dead 
than  alive.  I  dread  the  eye  of  Mr.  Little,  and.  it  is  my 
opinion  I  ought  immediately  to  quit  your  hospitable 
mansion."  —  "  Alas!  my  dear  child,  I  know  not  what  to  say. 
You  believe  you  ought  to  quit  us  !  Would  to  God  you  had 
never  thus  thought !  This  persuasion  is  the  source  of  all 
our  unhappiness.  How  often  have  I  told  you  that  no 
enemy  could  ever  injure  you  if  your  own  conduct  was 
uniformly  correct.  You  have  deeply  injured  a  heart  that 
loves  you.  I  promised  myself  that  you  would  become 
a  large  addition  to  our  domestic  felicity.  But  you  are 
apprehensive  you  have  offended  beyond  forgiveness ! 
Alas  !  m,y  daughter  is  more  distressed  for  you  than  for  her- 
self ;  you  know  not  how  much  she  has  suffered  on  your 
account ;  you  know  not  how  much  we  all  suffer !     Why, 


g.)  LIFE   OF  BEV.  JOHX  MURRAY. 

my  dear  child,  will  you  thus  afflict  your  best  friends?"  —  "I 
am,  my  dear  madam,  grieved  to  have  been  the  source  of  so 
much  distress  to  persons  so  dear  to  me ;  but  I  shall  shortly 
be  out  of  the  way  of  offending  any  one  ?"  —  "What  do  you 
mean?"  —  "To  quit  this  house,  to  quit  this  country."  The 
dear  lady  threw  lier  maternal  arms  around  me,  and  with 
flowing  tears  interrogated:  "Is  it  thus  you  will  avoid 
offending  us  ?  Ah,  my  dear  child,  how  little  do  you  know 
of  us,  or  of  yourself  !  For  God's  sake,  let  me  persuade  you 
not  to  take  so  rash  a  step !  Where  would  you  go,  and 
what  would  you  do  ?  Would  you  leave  a  home,  an  envied 
home,  and  thus,  while  you  afflicted  your  dearest  friends, 
gratify  your  malignant  foes  ?  "  —  "  But,  my  dear  madam,  it  is 
impossible  I  can  continue  under  this  roof.  Mr.  Little  will 
not  restore  me  his  confidence ;  my  felicity  in  this  family  is 
fled,  forever  fled." — "You  are  mistaken;  your  happiness 
rests  entirely  with  yourself;  be  but  uniformly  discreet; 
be  but  the  companion  we  expected  when  we  adopted  you, 
and  all  will  yet  be  well."  — "But,  madam,  the  eye  and  ear 
of  Mr.  Little  will  now  be  open  against  me.  Suspicion 
will  be  on  the  alert,  and  he  will  accept  the  tales  of  my 
enemies  as  testimonies  of  sacred  writ."  —  "Believe  it  not; 
think  no  more  of  this  untoward  business;  you  have  but 
one  enemy  who  can  essentially  injure  you,  and  that  enemy 
is  yourself.  I  will  be  responsible  for  my  family ;  you  shall 
not  be  molested  in  this  house.  Only  convince  us  that  you 
love  us ;  do  but  prove  that  you  are  more  attached  to  us 
than  to  any  other  individuals,  and  we  are  satisfied.  Do 
but  reflect  how  delightfully  we  might  pass  our  time  to- 
gether. The  business  of  the  day  closed,  and  we  assembled 
in  the  parlor,  you  with  your  book,  we  your  admiring 
audience,  until  we  are  summoned  to  supper.     Then,  after 


: 


LIFE    OF  liEV.  JOHX  MURRAY  gg 

you  have  closed  our  serene  day  by  an  appropriate  and 
affecting  address  to  the  God  who  created,  and  Avho  has 
hitherto  preserved  us,  we  retire  to  an  early  pillow,  soothed 
and  gratified,  our  sleep  cannot  but  be  refreshing.  Whv, 
what  a  paradise  would  our  abode  become  !  But,  my  child, 
when  you  pass  every  evening  abroad,  you  know  not  what 
a  melancholy  group  you  render  us.  We  are  dumb;  our 
countenances  are  sad ;  our  silence  is  sometimes  broken  by 
Mr.  Little,  who  questions  in  anger,  '  ^Yhere  is  our  young 
gentleman  to-night  ?  Any  society  but  ours  ! '  Then  follows 
a  heavy  sigh :  '  Well,  let  us  go  to  bed ;  it  will  be  late 
before  he  returns ;  but  this  will  never  do.'  We  dare  not 
open  our  lips ;  but  my  girls  mingle  their  tears  with  mine." 
Greatly  moved  by  these  observations,  I  sincerely  repented 
of  my  past  conduct ;  and  I  determined  I  would  in  all  things 
•conform  myself  to  the  wishes  of  my  parental  friends.  I 
beheld  the  family  picture  presented  before  me  by  the  dear 
lady.  I  beheld  it  with  rapture,  and  I  decisively  said, 
*' Yes,  indeed,  my  future  evenings  shall  all  be  devoted  to  a 
family  so  cliarming,  and  thus  Avill  my  days  be  passed  in 
peace."  I  promised  the  dear  lady,  solemnly  promised,  that  I 
would  be  all  slie  wished,  and  I  communicated  to  her  bosom 
inexpressible  delight.  I  left  her  in  tears,  but  they  were 
tears  of  rapture.  I  retired  to  my  chamber ;  I  threw  myself 
upon  my  knees ;  I  supplicated  pardon  of  my  heavenly  Father, 
and,  with  a  devout  heart,  I  implored  his  supporting  aid. 
A  petition  to  my  Creator  always  possessed  the  potent 
power  of  refresliing  my  soul.  I  was  greatly  refreshed,  and 
I  looked  forward  with  renewed  complacency.  In  a  few 
hours  I  was  summoned  to  dinner;  at  the  door  of  the  din- 
ing-room I  was  met  by  Mr.  Little ;  no  cloud  rested  upon 
his  countenance.     I  entered  the  dining-room,  where  were 


34  LIFE    OF  JIEV.   JOliy   MUURAY. 

seated  my  cliarining,  my  faithful  friends,  the  mother  and 
her  daugliters.  Their  countenances  were  animated,  but 
their  eyes  bore  testimony  to  their  previous  agitation.  Our 
interview  and  hour  of  dining  were  highly  gratifying.  It 
is  true,  many  words  were  not  uttered,  but  there  is  in  tlie 
expressive  eye  and  other  intelligent  features  of  a  fine  coun- 
tenance a  fascination  which  dwelleth  not  in  words.  Soon 
after  dinner,  my  little  friend,  the  youngest  daughter  of  my 
patron,  visited  me  in  my  chamber,  and  bestowed  upon  me 
many  caresses. 

Halcyon  days  and  months  now  revolved.  I  fondly  fancied 
I  had  surmounted  every  difficulty,  and  I  anticipated  a  suc- 
cession of  delightful  enjoyments ;  yet  again  I  experienced 
the  satiety  consequent  upon  one  unvaried  routine.  He 
who  had  appointed  me  for  a  life  of  wandering  gave  me  a 
disposition  which  was  repugnant  to  the  constant  recurrence 
of  the  same  scene.  I  ventured  to  pass  one  evening  abroad  ; 
another  and  another  succeeded.  I  was  severely  reflected 
upon,  and  I  felt  it  keenly.  Conscious  of  meriting  reproach, 
I  was  the  more  deeply  wounded.  I  had  been  recently  con- 
versant with  a  young  preacher  from  England.  My  imagina- 
tion was  fired ;  the  world  could  not  have  longer  detained 
me.  I  condemned  myself  for  wasting  so  much  time.  My 
heart,  my  soul,  was  in  England,  in  London.  Let  the  world 
bestow  its  censures,  London  was  the  place ;  it  contained 
everything  delightful.  I  was  on  tiptoe  to  be  gone.  If  I 
was  not  approved  by  tlie  family,  so  mucli  the  better  ;  there 
would  be  less  ingratitude  in  quitting  it.  My  dear  maternal 
friend  once  more  sought  and  obtained  a  private  interview; 
this  I  wished  to  avoid.  She  saw  my  reluctance,  and  was. 
convinced  she  should  not  succeed.  She  reproached  me ; 
this,  though  painful,  I  could  bear  better  than  her  tendei: 


I 


LIFE    OF  REV.   JOIIX  MURRAY.  g5 

ness.  "Then  you  will  leave  us?"  said  the  dear  lady.  —  "I 
am  determined."  —  "You  will  repent  it,  sir;  you  will 
return  with  sorrow  and  with  shame;  when,  possibly,  you 
may  not  find  these  hospitable  doors  open  to  receive  you."  — 
"  Xever,  never ;  I  will  die  first."  She  paused  ;  she  raised 
her  hands  to  heaven  ;  she  looked  —  merciful  God  !  I  see  her 
now  before  me.  The  impression  of  her  varying  countenance 
was  unutterable;  tears  coursed  each  other  down  her  pallid 
cheeks.  Pausing  for  a  few  moments,  she  said,  "Poor, 
unhappy  youth,  you  know  not  what  you  are  about,  where 
you  are  going,  and  wdiat  you  are  doomed  to  suffer.  Hei-e, 
then,  end  all  my  pleasing  prospects.  Now,  indeed,  I  have 
lost  my  sons.  Poor  Anna !  she  has  now,  in  truth,  no  brother. 
Go,  unhappy  youth,  go.  The  sooner  you  depart,  the  better. 
I  do  not  wish  to  see  you  again."  She  left  me,  nor  will  I 
attempt  a  description  of  my  sensations.  I  retired  to  my 
chamber,  —  my  chamber  now  no  more.  I  wept,  I  audibly 
sobbed.  In  imagination  I  beheld  the  beloved  friend  by 
whom  it  Avas  once  occupied.  He  seemed  to  uj:>braid  me  for 
my  conduct.  How  torturing  were  the  pangs  I  suffered ! 
Upon  the  evening  of  this  sad  day,  my  cherub  friend  entered 
the  chamber,  and  for  the  last  time  during  my  abode  therein. 
Pretty  soul,  she  threw  her  arms  around  my  neck ;  my  face 
was  wet  with  her  tears.  She  told  me  that  her  sister  was 
very,  very  sad  !  "  On  what  occasion,  my  love?"  —  "Why, 
papa  is  very,  very  angry  with  you  ;  and  she  says  you  are 
going  away  to-morrow,  she  knows  not  wdiere,  and  that  she 
shall  never  see  you  again;  and  she  walks  about  her  cham- 
ber, and  wrings  her  hands.  Oh,  dear,  oh,  dear !  I  never 
saw  her  so  much  distressed  before ! "  This  was  a  truly 
affecting  night ;  but  it  was  the  last  I  j^assed  under  that 
roof.     I  was  not  summoned  to  breakfast.     A  servant  came 


86  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

to  ask  if  I  would  breakfast  in  my  chamber.  There  coukl  be 
no  doubt  of  my  negative.  I  saw  b}'-  the  countenance  of 
this  domestic  that  I  was  fallen.  About  twelve  o'clock  I 
received  a  message  from  Mr.  Little  ;  he  was  alone  ;  I  must 
attend  him  My  sufferings  were  great.  To  meet  his  eye 
was  abundantly  worse  than  death.  I  endeavored  to  avoid 
it.  Some  time  elapsed  before  he  spoke.  He  repeatedl^^ 
attempted  to  speak,  but  mingling  grief  and  rage  arrested 
his  utterance.  At  last  he  said,  "  Well,  sir,  you  are  going 
to  commence  your  travels?"  This,  with  the  manner  in 
which  it  was  spoken,  relieved  me.  It  was  at  that  moment 
my  choice  to  cherish  resentment  rather  than  regret.  "  I 
am  going  to  England,  sir."  —  "  You  are?  Well,  and  what 
are  3-ou  going  to  do  there?  But  this  is  no  business  of 
mine  ;  yet  I  suppose  it  must  be  m}^  business  to  know  how 
you  are  to  get  there.  Have  you  any  mone}^  sir?" —  ''  No, 
sir."  —  "  Hold  your  hat,  sir."  I  did  so,  and  he  threw  into 
it  as  much  gold  as  he  pleased,  and,  as  I  then  believed,  as 
much  as  would  support  me,  if  I  should  reach  the  extreme 
age  allotted  to  man.  ''  Have  3^ou  enough,  sir?"  —  "Yes, 
sir,  quite  enough,  and  God  forever  bless  you  !  "  — ''  Do  3'ou 
hear,  sir?  Leave  behind  3-ou  my  son's  fowling-piece  ;  and 
here  ends  my  air-built  castle."  And  with  a  flushed  counte- 
nance and  a  tearful  eye  he  left  me,  nor  did  I  ever  more 
cross  the  threshold  of  his  door.  I  turned  my  back  upon 
this  once  delightful  home,  with  mingling  emotions  of  sor- 
row, mortification,  regret,  and  anger  ;  all  combining  to  pro- 
duce unutterable  anguish.  My  frame  trembled  as  I  turned 
from  the  door ;  a  chillness  pervaded  my  heart ;  sickness 
seized  my  stomach,  and  I  had  just  sufficient  presence  of 
mind  to  turn  the  contents  of  my  hat  into  my  pocket-hand 
kerchief,  when  I  sunk  down  upon  the  steps  of  the  first  dooi 


LIFE   OF  REV.   JOHN  MURRAY.  87 

iu  my  way.     I  was  seen  and  noticed  by  the  people  of  the 
house,  who  conve3'ed  me  into  their  dwelling,  and  when  they 
had  recovered  me,  questioned  me  respecting  the  cause  of 
m}'  indisposition.     I    related,  with    my   usual   frankness, 
every  particular,  and  in  a  short  time  the  story  circulated, 
and  with  all  the  yariations  commonly  attached  to  interest- 
ing articles  of  intelligence.     I  was   soon   sufficiently  re- 
stored  to  reach  the  residence  of  my  mother,  where  a  new 
scene  of  sorrow  awaited  me.     The  poor  sufferer  was  be3'ond 
measure  astonished  at  the  step  I  had  so  rashl}^  taken,  and 
her  distress  was  unutterable.    She  had  promised  herself  a 
long  series  of  enjo3'ments,  from  the  happy  arrangements 
made  for  me  ;  and  I  suspect  she  contemplated,  at  no  very 
distant  period,  a  union   between  Miss  Little  and  mj'self ; 
and  her  consequent  agonj',  when  she  learned  that  I  had  not 
onh'  abandoned  my  home  and  those  flattering  prospects, 
but   that,  in   consequence   of  my   fixed   determination   to 
repair  to  England,  she  was  to  lose  me,  perhaps  forever,  the 
torture  of  her  mind  was,  as  I  said,  be3'ond  the  reach  of 
language.     But  neither  her  tears  nor  entreaties,  strongly 
enforced  b}^  those  of  my  brothers  and  sisters,  could  for  a 
single  moment  shake   my  resolution.     Whatever  barriers 
might   oppose    my   wandering    steps,   to    England  I   must 
depart.     I  saw,  or  seemed  to  see,  the  sacred  shade  of  my 
father,  first  reproaching  me,  and  then  soothing  me  to  a 
compliance  with  the  wishes  of  his  mourning  family ;  and, 
by  the  anguish  of  my  feelings,  my  soul  was  harrowed  up ; 
yet  still,  obdurate  as  I  was,  I  continued  inflexible.     I  could 
not  endure  to  see,  or  be  seen,  in  the  vicinit}^  of  the  abode 
which  I  had  quitted  ;  and  I  made  immediate  preparations 
for  my  departure.     I  tendered  to  m}^  disconsolate  mother 
the  money  I  had  received  from  Mr.  Little,  not  a  penny  of 


^g  LIFE   OF  REV.  JOHN  MURRAY. 

which  she  would  accept.  "  No,  my  beloved  child,  if  you 
must  launch  out  upon  the  wide  ocean,  into  a  world  of 
which  you  know  but  little,  you  will  find  this  sum,  large  as 
it  is,  far  short  of  your  exigencies.  Through  your  filial 
exertions  I  am  established  in  a  dwelling  far  beyond  my 
most  sanguine  exj^ectations,  or  even  wishes ;  and  from 
your  well-timed  efforts  I  derive  many  other  advantages ; 
and  if  my  God  is  about  to  deprive  me  of  my  son,  I  doubt 
not  his  goodness  and  mercy,  which  have  hitherto  followed 
me,  will  still  be  manifest,  both  in  my  provision  and  preser- 
vation, and  in  that  of  my  helpless  children."  My  heart 
seemed  ready  to  burst ;  conscience  whispered  I  was  acting- 
wrong,  very  wrong;  yet  even  this  conviction  could  not 
induce  a  relinquishment  of  my  plan  ;  an  irresistible  impulse 
seemed  hurrying  me  on.  Many  instances,  striking  instances, 
in  my  long  and  wearisome  life  combine  to  prove  that  the 
way  of  man  is  not  in  himself.  I,  at  least,  have  experi- 
enced the  truth  of  this  sacred  testimony.  As  the  time  of 
my  departure  drew  near,  my  feelings  were  still  more  keen. 
My  mother,  my  brothers,  my  sisters,  my  friends,  renewed 
their  tears  and  entreaties.  I  could  not  stem  a  torrent  so 
mighty,  and  I  determined  I  would  abide  with  them.  But 
it  was  the  determhiation  of  the  moment,  extorted  by  the 
mournful  supi^lications  of  all  who  were  dear  to  me ;  and 
wlien  they  ceased  to  urge,  I  resumed  my  former  resolution  : 
my  mother,  from  early  life  devoutly  religious,  mildly 
resigned  herself  to  an  event  which  she  considered  inevita- 
ble. "  I  see,"  said  she,  "  supplications  are  ineffectual. 
Now  I  am  indeed  a  widow  !  "  Starting  at  the  desolate  term 
(widow),  so  mournfully  uttered,  I  hastened  to  my  chamber, 
and,  prostrating  myself  before  the  throne  of  Almighty  God, 
I  seemed  as  if  I  were  struggling  with  the  agonies  of  dis- 


LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN   MURRAY,  89 

solving  nature.  I  would  infinitel}^  have  preferred  death,  to 
a  separation  so  exquisitely  torturing.  I  besought  the  God 
of  my  father  to  have  compassion  upon  me,  never  to  leave 
nor  forsake  me ;  and  while  thus  humbly  and  faithfully 
soliciting  the  Father  of  my  spirit,  renewed  affiance  grew  in 
my  bosom,  and  a  voice  seemed  to  say,  "  Go,  and  lo  I  am 
with  yo'.i  always."  Calmly  reposing  upon  this  assurance, 
I  retired  to  rest.  I  quitted  my  pillow  on  the  succeeding 
morning  w^onderfully  refreshed. 

It  was  on  that  morning  that  I  met,  for  the  last  time,  in 
the  place  of  m}^  dear,  confiding  father,  his  disconsolate 
family.  It  was,  indeed,  a  time  of  prayer.  My  heart 
addressed  the  Father  of  mercies.  I  confessed,  with  great 
sincerity,  my  manifold  errors  ;  and  I  petitioned  for  a  con- 
tinuance of  unmerited  kindness.  I  beseeched  God  to  look 
with  pity  on  a  poor,  destitute,  helpless  being,  commencing  a 
journey  through  a  world  with  which  he  was  unacquainted. 
1  entreated  our  God,  in  behalf  of  my  sufi'ering  mother  and 
her  helpless  orphans,  that  he  would  constantly  abide  with 
them  ;  and  that  he  would  vouchsafe  an  answer  of  peace  to 
the  many  prayers  offered  up,  in  their  behalf,  by  the  hus- 
band and  parent  now  in  glory.  M}^  mother  was  dumb. 
She  saw  the  hand  of  God  in  this  business,  and  she  believed, 
that,  as  a  sparrow  falleth  not  to  the  ground  without  our 
heavenly  Father,  I  could  not  thus  leave  m}'  pleasant  home 
and  wander  I  knew  not  whither,  except  the  Lord  directed. 
And,  embracing  me,  when  on  the  eve  of  my  departure,  she 
affectingly  said,  "  Go,  my  first-born,  m}^  ever-beloved  son  ; 
go,  and  may  the  God  of  your  father  be  with  3'ou.  Go,  my 
darling  son,  on  whom,  while  commg  up  from  this  wilder- 
ness, I  fondly  meant  to  lean.  But  God  will  not  allow  me  to 
lean  on  iiwy  but  himself.     Go  thou,  ever  dear  to  m\^  heart, 


90  LIFE   OF  liEV.  JOHN  MURRAY. 

and  may  our  God  be  still  near  you,  to  preserve  you  from 
the  evil  which  is  in  the  world.  Tlie  prayers  of  your 
afflicted  mother  shall  be  continually  offered  up  in  your 
behalf ;  and  O  my  son,  although  we  part,  never  perhaps  to 
meet  again  in  this  world,  yet  let  us  meet  every  day  before 
that  throne,  whence  we  may  expect  grace  to  help  in  every 
time  of  need  ;  let  us  be  present  in  spirit,  thus  waiting  upon 
the  Lord."  She  then  threw  her  fond,  maternal  arms  around 
me,  once  more  pressing  me  to  that  dear,  that  faithful 
bosom  whence  I  drew  my  early  nourishment.  With  tears 
of  fond  affection  she  bedewed  my  face,  and  again  dropj>ing 
upon  her  knees,  she  once  more  lifted  her  streaming  eyes  to 
heaven  in  my  behalf,  when,  starting  up,  she  hastened  to  tlie 
retirement  of  her  chamber,  and  instantly  closed  the  door. 
I  stood  like  a  statue  ;  I  could  not  move;  I  was  almost  pet- 
rified by  sorrow.  But  from  this  state  of  stupefaction  I  was 
roused  by  the  burst  of  sorrow  and  loud  lamentations  of  my 
sisters.  I  turned  to  the  dear  girls.  I  wept  with  them,  and 
endeavored  to  give  them  that  consolation  which  I  did  not 
myself  possess.  But,  hastening  from  this  scene  of  sorrow, 
there  was  one  pang  which  I  calculated  to  escape.  The 
youngest  child,  a  beautiful  little  boy,  Avho  bore  the  name 
of  my  father,  —  sweet  cherub  !  —  I  dreaded  seeing  him,  and 
determined  to  spare  myself  this  torture ;  but,  as  I  slowly 
and  pensively  passed  from  the  house,  believing  that  what 
was  worse  than  the  bitterness  of  death  had  passed,  this 
lovely  little  fellow  crossed  my  path.  Sweet  innocent!  thou 
wert  playful  as  the  frisking  lamb  of  the  pasture,  totally 
ignorant  of  the  agonies  which  wrung  the  heart  of  tliy 
brother.  He  ran  to  me,  clung  around  my  knees,  and,  look- 
ing wishfully  in  my  face,  affectingly  questioned,  "Where 
are  you  going?  "     I  could  not  reply;  I  attempted  to  move 


LIFE   OF  nEV.   JOffX  MURRAY  91 

on.  He  took  liold  of  my  garment.  "  Let  me  go  witli  yon, 
brother  ?  "  He  uttered  these  questions  in  a  voice  so  plain- 
tive tliat  it  pierced  my  very  soul.  Surely,  had  it  been 
possible,  I  should  even  then  have  relinquished  my  purpose. 
It  was  with  difficulty  that  I  extricated  myself  from  this 
supplicating  infant.  I  would  have  hastened  forward,  but 
mv  trembling  limbs  refused  their  office.  I  caught  him  in 
my  arms  ;  I  pressed  him  to  my  aching  bosom,  and  but  for  a 
burst  of  tears,  which  came  seasonably  to  my  relief,  the 
struggles  of  my  heart  must  have  choked  me.  I  left  him, — 
yes,  I  left  tliis  youngest  of  my  father's  children,  this  dear 
object  of  my  soul's  affection,  this  infant  charge,  committed 
to  my  care  by  an  expiring  father.  I  left  him  in  the  act  of 
innocent  supplication.  I  left  him  when  I  should,  with  a 
thousand  times  less  of  suffering,  have  quitted  the  clay- 
built  tabernacle  of  my  spirit ;  nor  had  I  aught  in  prospect 
to  compensate  the  sorrows  to  which  I  voluntarily  submit- 
ted !  Surely,  there  is  a  Hand  unseen,  which  governs  the 
human  being  and  all  his  actions.  I  repeat,  truly  the  v:ay  of 
man  is  not  in  himself.  Few  sufferings  could  surpass  those 
which,  ujion  this  occasion,  I  endured.  My  bitterest  enemy 
could  not  have  censured  me  with  more  severity  than  I  cen- 
sured myself.  Yet  I  passed  on.  Xo  friend  could  urge  my 
return  with  more  energy  than  did  the  emotions  of  my  own 
affticted  heart.  Yet  I  passed  on.  True,  I  passed  on  slowly : 
a  frame,  enfeebled  by  mental  agonies,  is  not  moved  without 
difficulty.  I  had  sent  my  trunk  on  in  the  wagon  to  the  city 
of  Cork,  where  I  purposed  to  take  passage  for  England  ; 
and  with  ray  staff  in  tuv  hand  I  passed  on,  my  eyes  fixed 
on  the  ground,  not  wishing  to  encounter  any  human  eye. 
It  was  with  difficulty  I  attained  the  summit  of  a  steep 
acclivity,  where,  spent  and  weary,  I  sat  me  down.     From 


92  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

t'ns  lofty  eminence  in  full  perspective  outspread  before  me, 
was  the  place  from  which  I  had  departed.  Mj^  eye  eagerly 
ran  over  the  whole  bcene.  Upon  a  gentle  ascent,  directly 
opposite,  embosomed  in  a  thick  grove  of  ash,  sycamore, 
and  fruit-trees,  appeared  the  lovely  dwelling  of  my  mother. 
Behind  this  eminence,  still  ascending,  was  outstretched  that 
garden,  in  which,  with  great  delight,  I  had  so  often  labored  ; 
where  I  had  planted  herbs,  fruits,  and  flowers,  in  great 
variety  ;  and  where,  as  my  departure  was  in  the  month  of 
June,  they  all  flourished  in  high  perfection.  It  was  onlj^ 
during  the  preceding  year  that  I  had  added  to  my  stock  a 
large  number  of  the  best  fruit-trees,  in  the  full  expectation 
of  reaping  the  reward  of  my  labors,  through  many  succes- 
sive seasons.  In  those  tall  trees,  the  cuckoo,  the  thrush, 
and  the  blackbird  built  their  nests  ;  and  at  early  dawn  and 
at  closing  eve  I  have  hung  enraptured  upon  their  melodi- 
ous notes.  My  swimming  eye  passed  from  the  garden  to 
the  house.  There  sat  m}^  weeping,  my  supplicating  mother, 
at  that  moment,  probabl}^,  uniting  with  her  deserted  chil- 
dren in  sending  up  to  heaven  petitions  for  my  safety.  I 
turned  to  the  right ;  there  towered  the  stately  mansion  I 
was  bid  to  consider  as  my  own  ;  there  dwelt  the  matron 
who  hoped  I  should  have  been  unto  her  as  a  son,  and  who 
had  cherished  me  as  such  ;  there  dwelt  the  charming  young 
lady,  whose  virtuous  attachment  might  have  constituted  the 
solace  of  my  existence.  The  tear  of  sorrow,  the  sigh  of 
disappointment,  no  doubt  bedewed  their  cheeks,  and  swelled 
their  faithful  bosoms  I  And,  "  Oh  !  "  I  exclaimed,  "  may 
the  balm  of  peace,  may  the  consolations  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
be  abundantly  shed  abroad  in  your  hearts  !  " 

As  thus,  from  scene  to  scene,  my  eager  eye  with  tear- 
ful  haste  had  wandered,  my  heart  reiterated  its   unutter- 


LIFE    OF  REV.   JOHX  MURRAY.  93 

able  agonies ;  and,  as  I  considered  my  situation  as  re- 
sembling that  of  the  father  of  mankind^  when  driven 
from  the  pcortdise,  to  which  state  of  blessedness  it  was 
decreed  he  never  was  to  return,  I  would  gladly,  have  laid 
me  down  and  died.  I  would  have  given  the  world,  had  it 
been  at  my  disposal,  to  have  reinstated  myself  in  the  situa- 
tion and  circumstances  I  had  so  inconsiderately  relin- 
quished ;  but  this  was  impossible,  and  this  conviction,  — 
how  terrible!  I  wept,  I  sobbed.  Despair  seemed  taking 
up  its  residence  in  my  bosom.  I  lied  from  the  scene ;  again 
I  turned,  —  one  more  look.  I  wrung  my  hands  in  agony,  and 
my  heart  spontaneously  exclaimed,  "Dear,  ever  dear  parent, 
once  more  farewell !  Dear,  much-loved  sisters,  brothers,  and 
thou,  sweet  innocent,  thou  smiling,  thoughtless,  and  there- 
fore happy  babe,  once  more  farewell !  And  you,  dear 
second  parents,  and  thou  sister  of  the  friend  of  my  soul, 
with  the  beauteous  cherub  whose  infantile  caresses,  while 
pouring  into  my  ear  the  interesting  tale,  were  as  balm  to 
my  wounded  spirit,  farewell,  oh,  farewell,  forever!  And 
you,  ye-  many  kind,  religious  connections,  with  whom  I 
have  often  wept,  and  pi-ayed,  and  joyed,  and  sorrowed, 
once  more  I  bid  you  adieu.  Adieu,  ye  flowery  walks,  where 
I  have  spent  so  many  happy  hours ;  ye  thick,  embowering 
shades,  reared  by  these  hands,  ye  health-restoring  herbs, 
ye  sweet,  delicious  fruits,  ye  fragrant  flowers,  receive  my 
last  farewell !  Still  I  lingered,  —  still  I  gazed  around,  and 
yet  again,  another  look,  —  Vispc^s^,  and  lam  gone  forever  ! 
I  turned  from  the  view,  and  have  never  since  beheld  those 
charming  scenes.  I  wonder  much  my  agitated  spirits  had 
not  induced  a  fever ;  but  God  preserved  me,  and,  leading 
my  mind  to  the  consideraticn  of  scenes  beyond  the  pres- 
ent  state,   I  was   enabled    to  proceed  until  I  beheld,  in 


94  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

perspective,  the  spires  of  the  opulent  cit}^  which  I  was 
approaching.  The  opening  prospect,  with  the  additional 
sound  of  a  fine  ring  of  bells  from  Shannon  steeple, —  a  church 
standing  .on  an  eminence  upon  the  River  Lee,  the  bells  of 
which  are  heard  at  an  immense  distance,  —  gave  a  new  tone 
to  my  mind.  I  had  man}^  friends  in  the  city  of  Cork,  and 
I  endeavored  to  derive  consolation  from  their  unquestioned 
Attachment.  I  had  frequently  preached  in  this  city,  and  I 
had  reason  to  suppose  my  labors  had  been  acceptable.  In 
the  city  of  Cork,  my  paternal  grandmother,  with  her  daugh- 
ter, my  Aunt  Champion  and  her  children,  still  lived.  M^^ 
society  would  be  sought,  and  I  should  again  be  engaged  in 
preaching.  These  considerations  lessened  the  weight  of 
affliction  by  which  I  had  been  sorely  pressed.  I  arrived  at 
the  mansion  of  my  grandmother  some  time  before  sunset, 
and  I  was  very  joyfully  received  ;  but  when  I  had  commu- 
nicated my  plan,  the  countenances  both  of  my  grand- 
mother and  my  aunt  decidedly  evinced  their  displeasure. 
They  censured  me  with  severity,  and  I  keenly  felt  their 
rebukes.  I  assured  them  I  came  not  to  solicit  aid  ;  and, 
rising  from  my  chair,  I  bade  them  formally  adieu,  quitting 
their  presence  and  their  house.  The  eldest  daughter  of  my 
aunt,  a  very  beautiful  j^oung  lad}',  and  as  good  as  beautiful, 
whose  heart  was  formed  for  pity  and  for  tenderness,  fol- 
lowed me  downstairs,  and  entreated  me  to  continue  with 
them.  But  her  well-designed  interference  was  ineffectual. 
I  had  been  severely  censured,  and  I  could  not  bear  it.  I 
could  have  borne  it  better  if  it  had  been  unmerited.  I  left 
my  lovely  cousin  in  tears,  nor  did  I  again  see  or  hear  from 
any  individual  of  the  family,  until  one  evening  after  I  had 
preached  in  the  Methodist  Church,  my  grandmother  ad- 
vanced, took  m}^  hand,  and  requested  I  would  attend  her 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN   MURRAY.  95 

home.  I  confess  I  was  delighted  with  her  condescension  ; 
for  m}'  mind  had  greatl}^  suffered  from  the  reflection  that  I 
had  given  pain  to  the  dear  and  respectable  mother  of  my 
deceased  father.  I  accompanied  her  home,  and  we  passed 
a  happy  evening  together.  Both  m}^  grandmother  and  my 
aunt  addressed  me  in  strains  the  most  soothing ;  they 
poured  into  my  lacerated  mind  the  oil  and  wine  of  consola- 
tion ;  they  confessed  themselves  convinced  that  the  good 
hand  of  God  was  in  my  removal.  "  You  are,"  said  the 
pious  lady,  "you  are,  my  dear  child,  under  the  guidance 
of  an  Omnipotent  Power.  God  has  designed  you  for  him- 
self; you  are  a  chosen  instrument  to  give  light  to  your 
fellow-men.  You  are,  I  perceive,  ordained  to  turn  many 
from  darkness  unto  light,  from  the  power  of  Satan  unto 
God,  and  the  Lord  will  be  with  yo\x.  The  God  of  your 
father  will  bless  you,  and  make  your  way  prosperous  before 
you.  Look  no  more,  then,  to  what  you  have  left  behind,  but 
look  forward  in  faith,  alwaj^s  remembering  that  God's  works 
of  providence  are  his  most  holy^  ivise^  and  powerful ;  preserv- 
ing and  governing  all  his  creatures^  and  all  their  actions. 
Do  not,  I  say,  reflect  upon  yourself.  I  confess  I  was  wrong 
in  censuring  you.  God's  way  is  in  the  great  deep.  We 
ought  to  acquiesce  in  all  the  dispensations  of  our  Creator. 
You,  my  dear  son,  are  as  clay  in  his  hand.  God  is  as  the 
potter,  who  will  do  with  you  as  seemeth  good  in  his  sight. 
Who  can  resist  his  will  ?  "  Thus  did  this  dear  lady  speak 
peace  to  a  mind  that  had  not  for  a  long  season  received 
such  strong  consolation. 

I  was  urged,  while  in  the  city  of  Cork,  to  relinquish  my 
purpose  of  going  to  England.  The  Methodists  solicited 
me  to  repair  to  Limerick,  where  a  preacher  was  much 
wanted ;   but  nothing  could  seduce  my  thoughts  from  my 


9(5  LIFE   OF  REV.  JOHN  MURRAY. 

native  island.  I  frequently  mixed  in  company  where  reli- 
gious disputes  ran  very  high.  The  doctrines  of  election  and 
final  perseverance  were  severely  reprobated ;  but  election 
and  final  perseverance  were  fundamentals  in  my  creed,  and 
were  received  by  me  as  the  doctrines  of  God.  Yet  I  was 
aware  that  an  attem])t  to  defend  principles  so  obnoxious 
would  subject  me  to  the  censure  and  ill-treatment  of  reli- 
gious enemies,  and  I  had  experienced  that  religious  enemies 
were  the  most  to  be  dreaded.  Yet,  as  I  could  not  be  silent, 
and  as  I  dared  not  dissemble,  I  contented  myself  with 
observing  that  I  had  been  accustomed  to  hear  my  respect- 
able father  speak  in  favor  of  those  doctrines.  But,  although 
in  my  public  labors  I  never  asserted  aught  that  could 
expose  me  to  censure,  yet  I  was  more  than  suspected  of 
Calvinism,  and  consequent  resentments  w^ere  enforced 
against  me.  My  residence  in  the  city  of  Cork  was  thus 
rendered  unpleasant,  and  my  impatience  to  embark  for 
England  was  augmented.  I  was,  however,  obliged  to  con- 
tinue two  weeks  longer,  during  which  period  I  endeavored 
to  live  as  retired  as  possible,  avoiding  controversy,  and 
devoting  my  time  to  my  grandmother  and  a  few  select 
friends.  It  was  during  my  protracted  residence  in  this 
city  that  the  celebrated  Mr.  George  Whitefield  arrived 
there  upon  a  visit.  Of  Mr.  Whitefield  I  had  heard  much, 
and  I  was  delighted  with  an  opportunity  of  seeing,  liearing, 
and  conversing  with  so  great  a  man.  He  was  the  first 
Calvinistic  Methodist  I  had  ever  heard,  and  he  became 
very  dear  to  me.  I  listened  with  transport.  The  principles 
early  inculcated  upon  my  mind  were  in  full  force,  and  for 
Mr.  Whitefield  I  conceived  a  very  strong  passion.  He 
appeared  to  me  something  more  than  human.  I  blushed 
at  the  view  of  myself  as  a  preacher,  after  I  had  attended 


LIFE   OF  REV.   JOIIX  MURRAY.  97 

upon  him  ;  yet  I  liad  tlie  temerity  to  preach  in  pulpits 
wliich  lie  had  so  well  filled !  And  I  secretly  resolved  to  enter 
into  connection  with  him,  if  I  should  be  so  happy  as  to 
meet  liim,  after  my  arrival  in  London.  I  had  many  de- 
lightful opportunities  in  private  circles  with  this  gentlemail ; 
he  was  a  most  entertaining  companion.  But,  as  Mr.  Wes- 
ley marked  him  with  a  jealous  eye,  he  despatched,  by  way 
of  escort,  two  of  his  preachers  in  whom  he  particularly  con- 
fided, who  diligently  followed  the  great  man  from  place  to 
place.  He  was,  of  course,  upon  every  occasion,  closely 
watched  ;  and  his  facetious  observations  and  frequent  gay- 
ety  were  by  these  spies  severely  censured,  as  descriptive 
of  unhecoming  levity.  In  fact,  every  art  was  called  into 
action  to  prevent  the  affections  of  the  people  wandering 
from  one  reformer  to  another.  Yet,  while  the  gentlemen 
in  connection  with  Mr.  AYesley  were  continually  upon  the 
alert  against  Mr.  Whitefield,  he  himself  evinced  not  the 
smallest  inclination  for  opposition,  or  even  defence.  He 
appeared  perfectly  content  with  the  enjoyments  of  the  day, 
rather  preferrhig  a  state  of  independence  to  an  intimate 
connection  with  any  sect  or  party.  His  choice,  at  that 
time,  was  decidedly  the  life  of  an  itinerant,  and  he  then 
evidently  shrank  from  the  cares  and  embarrassments  at- 
tached to  the  collecting,  building,  and  repairing  churches. 
And  never,  I  believe,  did  any  man  in  public  life  enjoy 
more ;  he  ^^-as  the  admiration  of  the  many,  and  an  object 
of  the  warmest  affection  in  those  social  circles  in  which  it 
was  his  felicity  to  mingle.  The  pleasures  of  the  table  were 
highly  zested  by  Mr.  Whitefield,  and  it  was  the  pride  of 
his  friends  to  procure  for  him  every  possible  luxury.  The 
pleasure  I  derived  from  this  gentleman's  preaching,  from 
his  society,  and  from  the  society  of  his  friends,  contributed 
7 


98  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

to  lessen  the  weight  of  melancholy  which  depressed  my 
spirits  on  my  departure  from  home.  I  recollect  an  evening 
passed  with  him  at  the  house  of  one  of  Mr.  Wesley's 
preachers,  who  had  w^edded  a  beautiful  j'oung  lady  of  fam- 
ily and  fortune,  only  daughter  of  a  Mrs. ,  who  pos- 
sessed a  very  large  estate,  kept  her  chariot,  her  city  and 
her  country  house,  and  entertained  much  company.  Man}^ 
persons  were  collected  upon  this  evening.  I  was  charmed 
with  everything  I  saw,  with  ever^'thing  I  heard.  I  had 
long  admired  the  master  of  the  house  ;  his  lady  I  had  never 
before  seen.  She  was  the  object  of  general  adulation  ;  her 
person  was  uncommonly  elegant,  and  her  face  dazzlingly 
beautiful.  She  had  received  a  useful  as  well  as  a  fashionable 
education,  and  she  was  mistress  of  all  the  polite  accom- 
plishments. She  had  three  lovely  children,  with  minds  as 
well  cultivated  as  their  time  of  life  would  permit.  I  threw 
m}^  e3'es  upon  the  happ}',  the  highl}^  favored  husband,  the 
amiable  wife,  the  fascinating  children,  the  venerable  lady, 
who  gave  being  to  this  charming  wife,  mother,  friend.  I 
beheld  the  group  with  rapture  ;  for  envy,  as  I  have  else- 
where observed,  was  never  an  ingredient  in  my  composition, 
and  I  hung  with  a  sort  of  chastened  pleasure  upon  the 
anecdotes  furnished  by  Mr.  TVhitefield.  The  whole  scene 
was  captivatingl}^  entertaining,  and  highly  interesting.  I 
was  ready  to  wish  the  night  might  endure  forever.  Alas  ! 
it  was  but  one  night.  I  never  after  entered  that  house. 
Happy  would  it  have  been  for  me  if  I  had  never  seen  it !  * 
How  mysterious  are  the  ways  of  Heaven !  This  evening, 
upon  which  I  was  so  highly  gratified,  was  the  remote  cause 
of  my  suffering,  many  years  afterwards,  great  and  very 
serious  inquietude.     I   left  the  house  of  my  friend,   Mr. 

*  See  Chap.  VI.  for  an  explanation  of  this  reference.  —  T.  W. 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  99 

Trinbath,  expecting  to  have  seen  him  again  and  again. 
I  left  him  an  object  of  emy  to  many ;  but  I  never  saw  him 
more,  nor  did  he,  poor  gentleman,  long  continue  the  object 
of  env}'  to  any  one. 

This  was  the  last  night  I  spent  in  this  cit}',  —  in  this 
countr}'.  The  vessel  in  which  I  had  engaged  a  passage  to 
Bristol  was  now  read}'  for  sailing.  I  had  only  time  upon 
the  morning  of  the  ensuing  day  to  bid  a  hasty  adieu  to  my 
grandmother  and  her  family,  with  a  few  other  friends,  to 
receive  their  blessings,  and  to  depart.  I  took  my  place  in 
the  vessel  at  the  wharf,  some  of  my  friends  accompanying 
me  thither.  I  spoke  to  them  with  my  eyes,  with  my 
hands  ;  m}^  tongue  refused  utterance. 

The  beauty  of  the  surrounding  scenes,  in  passing  from 
the  city  to  the  cove  of  Cork,  cannot  perhaps  be  surpassed. 
A  few  miles  from  the  city  stands  a  fortress,  then  governed 
by  a  half-brother  of  m}-  father.  I  beheld  it  with  a  humid 
eye  ;  but  the  vessel  had  a  fair  wind  and  we  passed  it  rap- 
idly. I  retired  to  the  cabin,  ^ly  too  retentive  memor}^ 
retraced  the  scenes  I  had  witnessed  since  first  I  reached 
Hibernia's  hospitable  shore  ;  they  were  man}',  and  to  me 
interesting.  Reflection  became  extremely  painful,  yet  it 
was  impossible  to  avoid  it ;  and  while  I  was  thus  retro- 
specting  the  vessel  cut  her  way  through  the  harbor ;  we 
had  reached  the  cove,  we  were  on  the  point  of  leaving  the 
land.  I  jumped  upon  the  deck.  I  threw  my  eyes  over  the 
country  I  was  leaving,  which  contained  all  that  was  dear 
to  me  either  by  the  ties  of  blood  or  friendship.  All  were 
drawn  up  in  order  before  me.  It  was  another  parting 
scene.  Yet  I  cherished  hope ;  I  might  again  return. 
Alas,  alas !  this  hope  was  delusive  ;  it  was  an  everlasting 
adieu.     Dear  country  of  guileless  and  courteous  manners, 


100  ^^^^    <5^'  ^^^^'  JOHN  MUHRAY. 

of  integrity,  and  generous  hospitality,  I  bid  you  adieu. 
Adieu,  ye  verdant  hills,  ye  fertile  valleys,  ye  gurgling  rills, 
which  everywhere  cross  the  path  of  the  traveller;  ye 
delicious  fruits,  ye  fragrant  flowers,  ye  sylvan  scenes  for 
contemplation  made,  —  adieu,  perhaps  forever !  Here  end 
the  various  hopes  and  fears  which  have  swelled  my  bosom 
in  a  country  celebrated  for  the  salubrity  of  its  air,  the 
clearness  of  its  waters,  the  richness  of  its  j^astures,  and 
the  hospitality  of  its  inhabitants  ;  where  no  poisonous  rep- 
tile could  ever  yet  procure  sustenance. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ARRIVAL   IN   ENGLAND,    AND    FURTHER   PROGRESS   OF  THE 
INEXPERIENCED    TRAVELLER. 

Hail,  native  isle,  for  deeds  of  worth  renowned. 
By  statesmen,  patriots,  poets,  heroes  crowned; 
For  thee  my  friends,  my  weeping  friends,  I  leave; 
To  thy  blest  arms,  thy  wandering  son  receive. 

I  NOW  began  a  new  era  of  my  melancholy  life.  Losing 
sight  of  land,  I  again  retired  to  my  cabin.  Alas!  "busy 
thought  was  too  busy  for  my  peace."  Launched  upon  the 
wide  ocean  I  was  speeding  to  a  country,  —  my  native 
country,  indeed,  but  a  country  in  which  I  could  boast 
neither  relation  nor  friend,  not  even  a  single  acquaintance. 
I  was  quitting  a  country  in  which  I  had  both  relations  and 
friends,  with  many  pleasant  acquaintances.  Yet  this  con- 
sideration did  not  much  depress  me ;  for,  although  my 
heart  was  pained  when  I  reflected  on  those  I  was  leaving, 
yet  I  was  in  raptures  at  the  thought  of  England.  I  prom- 
ised myself  everything  pleasing  in  England  ;  yet,  in  my 
most  visionary  moments,  I  could  not  name  a  source  from 
which  I  could  rationally  expect  establishment  or  even  tem- 
porary gratification.  Several  gentlemen  were  in  the  cabin, 
who  took  kind  notice  of  me ;  they  asked  me  no  questions, 
so  I  was  not  embarrassed.  But  they  contributed  to  render 
my  passage  agreeable,  which,  however,  was  very  short ; 
for  the  identical  passage,  which,  when  I  accompanied  my 

101 


102  ^'^^-^    <5^'   ^'^''-  ^<5//.V  MURRAY. 

father,  consumed  full  nine  weeks,  was  now  i:>erformed  in 
three  days.  But,  exempted  from  those  fears,  and  that 
nausea  which  sometimes  afflicts  fresh-water  sailors,  I  was 
rather  pleased  with  the  rapidity  of  our  j^assage.  We 
dropped  anchor  in  Bristol  Channel.  I  was  charmed  Avith 
an  opportunity  of  going  ashore  at  Pill,  and  once  more 
greeting  the  good  old  lady  that  had,  many  years  before,  so 
tenderly  compassionated  me  when  I  returned  as  one  from 
the  dead  to  my  offended  father.  Alas!  she  was  no  more. 
This  was  a  disappointment.  But  I  Avas  in  England,  and 
everything  I  saw  swelled  my  throbbing  bosom  to  rapture. 
I  was  determined  on  walking  to  Bristol;  it  was  only  five 
miles,  and  through  a  most  enchanting  country.  Oh,  what 
transport  of  delight  I  felt  when,  with  the  ensuing  morning, 
I  commenced  my  journey !  The  birds  sweetly  carolled, 
the  flowers  enamelled  the  meadows,  the  whole  scene  was 
paradisiacal.  It  was  England.  But  Avhere  was  I  going? 
I  knew  not.  How  to  be  employed  ?  I  knew  not.  But  I 
knew  I  was  in  England.  And,  after  feasting  my  eyes  and 
ears,  1  seated  myself  upon  a  verdant  bank,  where  the  hot 
wells  (so  much  celebrated  as  the  resort  of  invalid  votaries 
of  fashion  who  come  here  to  kill  time,  and  to  protract  a 
debilitated  existence  by  the  use  of  the  waters)  were  in  full 
view.  Here  I  began  seriously  to  reflect  upon  my  situa- 
tion, and  to  attend  to  various  questions  proposed  by  a 
certain  invisible^  my  internal  monitor,  who  thus  introduced 
the  inquiry:  "Well,  here  you  are  in  England;  what  are 
you  to  do  ?  "  —  "  God  only  knows."  —  "  Had  you  not  bet- 
ter apply  to  him  for  liis  direction  and  ])rotection  ? "  — 
"  Certainly  ;  where  has  my  mind  wandered  that  I  liave  not 
thus  done  before?"  The  emotions  of  my  heart  were  at 
this  moment  indescribable.     When  I  last  gazed  upon  these 


LIFE   OF  REV.   JOHX  MURRAY.  ^QS 

scenes  my  prudent,  vigilant  father  was  at  my  side  to  guard 
me  from  evil;  now  I  had  no  guide,  no  counsellor,  no  pro- 
tector. "Oh,  yes,"  said  my  monitor,  "you  have  the 
Creator,  the  Father  of  your  father ;  he  will  be  your  God, 
and  your  guide.  He  will  be  your  protector,  your  coun- 
sellor, your  preserver.  He  will  provide  for  you ;  and,  if 
you  apply  to  him,  he  will  make  your  way  plain  before 
you."  My  heart,  softened  and  cheered  by  these  consoling 
suggestions,  instantly  began  its  supplications.  There  I 
prayed,  and  there  I  remembered  Jacob  upon  the  field  of 
Padan-aram.  I  commended  myself  to  the  care  of  the  God 
of  Abraham,  of  Isaac,  and  of  Jacob ;  and  I  added  to 
these  names  the  name  of  my  own  father.  Thus,  by  un- 
bosoming myself  to  the  Author  of  my  existence,  was  my 
S])irit  greatly  refreshed.  It  is  very  true  I  wept,  freely 
wept ;  but  my  tears  were  tears  of  luxury,  and  I  went  on 
my  way  rejoicing  in  a  hope  which  gave  me,  as  it  were,  to 
tread  air.  I  reached  Bristol  at  early  dinner.  I  entered  a 
tavern,  inquiring  if  I  could  be  furnished  with  a  dinner. 
They  saw  I  was  a  stranger,  and  from  Ireland.  The  master 
of  the  inn  was  from  the  same  country.  He  soon  discovered 
I  was  a  Methodist,  and,  being  acquainted  with  those  re- 
ligionists, he  invited  them  to  visit  me,  and  I  was  conse- 
quently introduced  to  many  of  the  Methodists  in  that  city. 
It  may  be  thought  strange  that,  as  I  had  been  so  much 
engaged  among  the  Methodists  in  Ireland,  being  one  of 
their  approved  preachers,  I  did  not  take  the  steps  neces- 
sary to  introduce  me  among  that  class  of  jDeoj^le  in 
England.  But,  beside  the  jealousy  which  had  taken  place 
in  the  minds  of  my  religious  brethren,  on  account  of  my 
attachment  to  the  doctrine  of  election,  which  made  me 
resolve  to  quit  Mr.  Wesley's  connection,  and  unite  myself 


104  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

with  the  adherents  of  Mr.  Whitefield,  I  wished  for  liberty 
to  act  myself  without  restraint.  But  on  being  introduced 
I  was  soon  engaged  ;  attended  their  meetings  and  private 
societies,  and  was  admired  and  caressed,  and  consequent!}' 
tarried  longer  than  I  had  proposed,  deriving  from  ever}- 
social  interview  abundant  consolation.  Upon  the  evening 
previous  to  m}-  departure  from  Bristol,  I  was  urged  to 
visit  a  society  a  few  miles  from  the  cit3^  It  was  a  pleas- 
ant walk.  Several  of  both  sexes  were  assembled  ;  they 
w^ere  neat  in  person  and  correct  in  manners,  and  they  were 
all  English.  I  was  charmed,  and,  being  in  good  spirits, 
I  was  thought  excellent  company.  I  was  then  a  stranger. 
They  were  highl}^  pleased.  I  was  requested  to  pra3\  I 
did  so,  and  we  mingled  our  tears.  I  was  solicited  to  con- 
tinue among  this  people  ;  but  m}-  wishes  all  pointed  to 
London,  and  to  London  I  must  go.  I  parted  with  m}^  new 
acquaintance  with  regret,  for  I  was  as  much  pleased  with 
them  as  the}'  appeared  to  be  with  me.  Being  prevailed 
upon  to  tarry  dinner  the  next  day  I  did  not  leave  Bristol 
until  the  afternoon.  I  then  departed  alone,  determining  to 
proceed  as  far  as  Bath,  and  take  the  stage  for  London  upon 
the  ensuing  morning.  As  I  passed  over  one  of  the  most 
charming  roads  in  England,  and  alone,  I  had  not  onh' 
time  for  reflection,  but  my  reflections  were  pensively  pleas- 
ing. I  was  advancing  towards  the  metropolis.  Hitherto 
I  had  experienced  the  goodness  of  God,  and  I  indulged 
the  most  sanguine  hopes.  My  heart  was  greatlj'  elated. 
I  beheld  the  surrounding  scenes  with  rapture.  I  was  not 
wearied  by  my  walk,  —  it  was  only  sixteen  miles  from 
Bristol  to  Bath.  The  fields  stood  thick  with  corn  ;  the 
valleys,  burdened  with  an  uncommon  load  of  ha}',  seemed 
to  laugh  and  sing  ;  and  the  birds,  in  their  variety,  were  as 


LIFE   OF  REV.   JOIIX  MURRAY.  JQ5 

if  hymning  the  praises  of  tlicir  Creator;  wliile  tlie  setting 
sun  heightened  tlie  grandeur,  and  gave  the  finishing  touches 
to  the  scene.  My  feelino's  were  indeed  liio-hlv  wrous^ht. 
I  proceeded  near  the  margin  of  a  beautiful  river.  Two 
hay-makers  were  returning  from  tlieir  toil.  I  addressed 
them,  and  in  my  accustomed  manner  I  expressed  my  de- 
light and  my  gratitude.  "  '  Tliese,'  "  said  I,  in  a  strain  of 
ra])ture,  *' '  tliese  are  thy  gloi'ious  works,  Parent  of  good ; 
Almighty  Father,  tliine  tliis  universal  frame,  thus  won- 
drous fail-,  —  surpassing  wonder  far  I  Tliyself  how  won- 
drous then  ! ' "  Tears  gushed  in  my  eyes  as  I  thus 
expressed  tiie  transport  of  my  soul.  The  men  were 
astonished,  yet  they  seemed  pleased.  I  asked  tlie  name 
of  the  river.  They  replied,  "The  Avon,  sir."  —  "Tlien," 
said  I,  "it  flows  through  the  native  place  of  Shakespeare.*' 
— "  Shakesi)eare,  who  is  he?"  —  "A  writer,"  I  replied, 
wondering  at  myself  for  mentioning  liis  name ;  but  I 
thought  of  Shakespeare,  and  I  have  ever  been  accustomed 
to  think  loud.  The  thought  was  an  addition  to  my  pleas- 
ures, and  from  tlie  abundance  of  the  heart  the  mouth 
speaketh.  My  companions  could  not  fail  of  discovering 
that  I  came  from  Ireland,  yet  they  cast  no  reflections  upon 
me,  as  is  the  custom  with  low  people  upon  these  occasions  ; 
they  were  rather  disposed  to  treat  me  kindly.  "I  fancy," 
said  one  of  them,  "you  are  a  Methodist."  —  "I  am,"  said 
I;  "I  do  not  deny  it." 

"  Then  my  Bess  will  be  glad  to  see  thee,  I'll  warrant 
me ;  wool  thee  come  along  with  me  ?  Thee  may  go  farther 
and  fare  worse,  I  can  tell  thee  that." — "Ay,  ay,"  said  the 
other,  "  thee  had  best  go  with  my  neighbor.  I'll  warrant 
thee  good  cheer."  I  thanked  this  kind  man,  and  my  heart 
swelled  with  o:ratitude  to  that  Beino-  in  whose  hands  are 


106  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

the  hearts  of  all  his  creatures,  for  thus  meeting  me,  on  my 
entrance  into  this  strange  city,  with  loving-kindness  and 
tender  mercy.  We  walked  on  together  mutually  delighted  ; 
I,  with  everything  I  saw,  and  my  companions  with  me,  for 
my  expressed  satisfaction.  We  soon  stopped  at  the  door 
of  a  very  neat  house.  This  cannot,  said  my  heart,  be  the 
dwelling  of  a  haymaker.  It  was,  however,  and  opening  the 
door,  he  said,  "  Here,  Bess,  I  have  brought  thee  home 
a  3'oung  Methodist.  I  know  thee  wilt  be  glad  to  see  him." 
I  was  then,  by  this  rough,  good-hearted  man,  presented 
to  his  wife :  *'  Thou  must  find  out  his  name  thyself."  I 
immediately  told  her  my  name,  when  in  a  friendly  manner 
she  requested  me  to  be  seated.  She  was  a  very  different 
character  from  her  husband.  Her  manners  were  even 
polished.  She  entered  into  friendly  conversation  with  me, 
and  we  derived  much  satisfaction  therefrom;  when  her 
husband,  entering,  inquired  in  his  rough  manner,  "  What 
the  plague,  Bess,  hast  got  no  supper  for  thy  guest?  "  This 
was  a  matter  to  which  we  had  neither  of  us  recurred.  The 
good  man,  however,  was  speedily  obeyed,  and  an  elegant 
repast  was  forthwith  placed  upon  the  table,  of  which  I  par- 
took with  appetite.  We  afterwards  sang  one  of  the  Metho- 
dist hymns,  and  we  united  in  solemn  prayer.  While  my  heart 
acknowledged  all  the  fervor  of  devotion,  even  my  host 
himself  seemed  affected  and  pleased,  declaring  he  esteemed 
himself  fortunate  in  meeting  me.  I  was  introduced  to  a 
handsome  lodging-room,  and  a  good  bed  ;  but  the  fulness 
of  my  grateful  heart  would  not,  for  some  time,  allow  me 
to  close  my  eyes.  At  length  I  sunk  into  the  most  refresh- 
ing slumber,  and  I  arose  the  next  morning  greatly  exliila- 
rated.  I  was  received  by  my  hospitable  host  and  hostess 
wiih  every  mark  of  satisfaction.     We  breakfasted  together, 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  107 

sang  a  h3'ran,  and  addressed  the  throne  of  grace,  when  the 
good  man  went  forth  to  the  labors  of  the  field,  requesting 
that  I  would  not  think  of  leaving  them.  In  the  course  of 
the  morning  the  good  Ifxdy  informed  me  that  they  had 
recently  settled  in  Bath  a  Mr.  Tucker,  who  had  been  a 
preacher  in  Ireland.  My  heart  leaped  at  this  intelligence. 
Of  all  the  preachers  with  whom  I  had  ever  associated,  this 
man  possessed  the  greatest  share  of  my  affection.  His 
tender,  innocent,  childlike  disposition  not  only  endeared 
him  to  me,  but  to  all  who  were  acquainted  with  his  worth. 
My  hostess  was  charmed  to  learn  that  I  was  known  to  Mr. 
Tucker.  I  solicited  her  to  direct  me  to  his  residence,  but 
when  she  informed  me  that,  bj^the  death  of  his  father,  he  had 
recently  come  into  possession  of  thirty  thousand  pounds 
sterling,  I  became  apprehensive  I  should  not  be  recognized. 
But  I  had  occasion  to  reproach  myself  for  suspicions,  for 
no  sooner  was  I  conducted  to  his  dwelling,  than  he  caught 
me  in  his  arms,  and  expressed  the  highest  satisfaction. 
Upon  introducing  me  to  his  lady,  he  said,  "  My  dear,  this 
young  man  is  the  eldest  son  of  one  of  the  best  men  I  ever 
knew.  No  man  ever  possessed  a  larger  share  of  my  vener- 
ating afi^ection.  I  love  this  young  person  as  his  son, 
and  I  love  him  for  himself;  and  when  you,  my  dear,  know 
him  as  I  do,  the  goodness  of  your  own  heart  will  compel 
you  to  love  him  as  I  do."  How  highl}^  gratif3ang  all  this 
to  me,  at  such  a  time,  in  such  a  place,  and  in  the  presence 
of  the  lady  whose  guest  I  was  !  But  I  must  be  her  guest 
no  longer ;  this  warm-hearted  friend  of  my  father  and  of 
myself  would  not  allow  me  to  leave  his  house  nor  the  city 
for  a  long  season  ;  indeed,  it  was  greatly  against  his  will 
that  I  left  Bath  when  I  did.  I  promised  I  would  call 
every   day    upon     my    worthy   host    and    hostess,    which 


IQ^  LIFE   OF  llEV.   JOHX  MURRAY. 

])ro]nise  I  25unctually  performed.  Mr.  Tucker  insisted 
upon  my  giving  them  a  discourse  in  the  church  in  which 
lie  officiated ;  for,  although  possessed  of  an  independent 
fortune,  he  yet  continued  to  preach  to  the  people.  On 
Sunday,  then,  I  preached  in  the  city  of  Bath,  to  great 
acceptation.  My  host  and  hostess  (the  hospitable  hay- 
maker and  wife)  were  present,  and  felicitated  themselves 
that  they  had  introduced  a  man  so  much  approved. 

My  reverend  friend  conducted  me  from  place  to  place, 
showing  me  everything  curious  in  that  opulent  resort  of 
the  nobility.  It  was  to  this  faithful  friend  that  I  communi- 
cated, in  confidence,  the  difficulties  imder  Avhich  I  labored 
respecting  my  religious  principles.  I  observed  to  him 
that  I  could  not,  with  a  good  conscience,  reprobate  doc- 
trines which,  as  I  firmly  believed,  originated  with  God, 
nor  advocate  sentiments  diametrically  o2:>posite  to  Avhat  I 
considered  as  truth.  On  this  account  I  could  not  cordially 
unite  with  Mr.  Wesley  or  his  preachers.  Mr.  Tucker  saw 
the  force  of  my  objections  ;  nay,  he  felt  them,  too,  for  he 
was  at  that  instant  nearly  in  the  same  predicament  with 
myself.  Yet  we  could  not  hit  upon  an  expedient  to  con- 
tinue in  the  connection  and  preserve  our  integrity.  My 
anxiety,  however,  to  reach  the  capital  compelled  me  to 
press  forward  ;  and  my  kind  friend,  convinced  I  was  not 
to  be  prevailed  upon  further  to  delay  my  departure,  en- 
gaged a  place  in  the  coach  for  me,  discharging  all  the 
attendant  expenses,  and  placing  besides  a  handsome 
gratuity  in  my  pocket.  Of  my  first  host  and  hostess  I 
took  a  friendly  leave.  Gratitude  has  stamped  their  images 
upon  my  bosom.  I  left  them,  and  my  other  kind  friends, 
in  tears.  We  commended  each  other  to  the  kind  God, 
who,  in  his  own  way,  careth  for  us.     I  have  since  been 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  109 

greatly  astonished,  indeed,  I  was  at  the  time  surprised,  at 
my  thus  hastening  to  quit  a  place  where  I  was  furnished 
with  everything  my  heart  ought  to  have  desired,  when  the 
prospect  before  me  was  at  least  uncertain ;  but  I  have 
been,  all  my  days,  a  m3^stery  to  m3'self ;  nor  is  this  mystery 
yet  unravelled.  1  retired  this  night  to  bed,  but  did  not 
close  my  eyes  until  near  the  dawn  of  day  ;  3^et  my  reflec- 
tions upon  m^'  pillow  were  charming.  I  clearly  saw  the 
good  hand  of  God  in  all  my  movements.  I  was  enchanted 
with  everything  I  had  seen,  and  with  the  prospect  of  what  I 
had  still  to  see.  Oh,  how  sweet,  in  early  life,  are  those 
sensations  which  are  the  offspring  of  vigorous  hope !  how 
great  are  the  joys  of  expectation  ! 

No  one  ever  derived  more  high-wrought  pleasures  from 
hope  than  myself.  I  quitted  my  bed  just  at  the  dawn  of 
day,  after  a  refreshing  slumber.  I  had  apprised  the  people 
at  the  stage-house,  the  evening  before,  that  I  should  walk 
on  and  let  the  stage  overtake  me.  This  I  did,  and  a  most 
delightful  walk  I  had.  I  met  the  Aurora,  the  rising  sun, 
the  waking  songsters  of  the  hedges,  the  lowing  tenants  of 
the  mead,  the  lusty  laborer  with  his  scythe,  preparing  to 
cut  down  the  bending  burden  of  the  flowery  meadow.  The 
increasing  beauty  of  the  surrounding  scenes,  the  fragrant 
scent  of  the  new-mowed  ha}',  all,  all  were  truly  delightful ; 
and  thus  enchanted,  with  spirits  light  as  air,  I  passed  on 
till  1  reached  the  Devizes,  nineteen  miles  from  Bath,  where, 
after  I  had  breakfasted,  the  coach  overtook  me,  in  which  I  was 
soon  seated,  finding  a  ride,  after  walking,  more  abundantly 
refreshing.  We  rolled  over  the  finest  road  in  the  woiid  with 
such  rapidit\^  that  we  reached  London  before  sunset. 
How  much  was  my  heart  elated  as  I  passed  over  this 
charming  counti-y  !     How  did  it  palpitate  with  pleasure  as  1 


110  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN   MURRAY, 

advanced  toward  the  metropolis  !  Yet  still  I  had  no  fixed 
plan,  nor  knew  I  what  I  should  do  or  whither  repair.  True, 
I  had  some  letters  to  deliver,  but,  in  the  hurry  of  mj* 
spirits,  I  had  forgotten  them ;  and  on  being  set  down  at  the 
stage-house  in  London,  I  left  my  trunk,  without  a  single 
line  of  intimation  to  whom  it  belonged,  and  wandered  about 
the  cit}^,  feasting  my  ej'es  with  the  variety  which  it  pre- 
sented, "  till  twilight  gray  had,  in  her  sober  liver}^,  all  things 
clad,"  when  I  began  to  turn  my  thoughts  toward  a  shelter 
for  the  night.  I  entered  a  tavern,  requesting  a  supper  and 
a  lodging,  both  of  which  were  readily  granted.  I  sat  pen- 
sive ;  I  was  weary  ;  my  spirits  sunk.  I  ate  little,  and,  retir- 
ing to  my  chamber,  after  securing  the  door,  I  fell  on  uy 
knees,  beseeching  the  Father  of  mercies  to  have  compassion 
upon  me.  I  wept,  wished  myself  at  home,  and  my  heart 
seemed  to  die  within  me  at  the  consideration  that  I  could 
not  return  without  fulfilling  the  predictions  of  my  matron 
friend.  "  You  will  return,"  said  she,  "  and  perhaps  find 
this  door  shut  against  3'ou."  —  "Never,"  said  I,  "never; 
I  will  die  first."  This  was  the  most  melancholy  night  I 
had  passed  since  I  left  the  dwelling  of  my  mother.  I 
arose  in  the  morning  unrefreshed.  I  inquired  where  the 
stage  put  up  ;  I  had  forgotten.  I  told  my  host  I  had  left 
my  trunk  at  the  stage-house.  He  soon  found  the  place, 
but  he  despaired  of  ever  obtaining  my  trunk.  I  recovered 
it,  however,  and  a  porter  took  it  to  my  lodgings  ;  there  I 
believed  it  safe,  although  I  knew  nothing  of  the  people.  I 
recollected  where  I  had  lived  when  with  my  father  in 
this  city ;  thither  I  repaired ;  but,  although  there  were  re- 
maining individuals  who  remembered  him,  no  one  recog- 
nized me.  I  was,  however,  kindly  noticed  for  his  sake, 
and  soon  introduced  to  man}',  by  whom  I  was  much  ca- 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN   MURRAY.  Ill 

ressed.  From  this  I  reaped  no  benefit.  A  few  of  my  Meth- 
odist friends,  whom  I  had  known  in  Ireland,  visited  me,  but, 
seeing  me  in  company  which  they  did  not  approve,  they 
stood  aloof  from  me.  In  the  judgment  of  Mr.  Wesley  and 
his  adherents,  my  principles  were  against  me.  Thej^  did 
not  believe  any  man  could  be  pious  who  believed  the  doc- 
trine of  predestination.  I  remember,  some  time  after  the 
death  of  my  father,  sitting  with  Mr.  Wesle}^  in  the  house  of 
my  mother,  and  conversing  on  this  truly  interesting  sub- 
ject. I  ventured  to  remark  that  there  were  some  good 
men  who  had  given  their  suffrage  in  favor  of  the  doctrine 
of  election,  and  I  produced  my  father  as  an  instance  ;  when, 
laying  his  hand  upon  my  shoulder  with  great  earnestness, 
he  said,  "  My  dear  lad,  believe  me,  there  never  was  a  man 
in  this  world  who  believed  the  doctrine  of  Calvin,  but  the 
language  of  his  heart  was,  '  I  may  live  as  I  list.'  "  It 
was,  as  I  have  before  observed,  generally  believed  that  I 
inherited  the  principles  of  my  father.  The  Methodists  in 
London  were  afraid  of  me,  and  I  was  afraid  of  them.  We 
therefore,  as  if  b}^  mutual  consent,  avoided  each  other.  My 
wish  to  attach  myself  to  Mr.  Whitefield  was  still  paramount 
in  my  bosom ;  but  Mr.  Whitefield  was  not  at  home,  and  it 
was  unfortunate  for  me  that  he  was  not.  Every  day  I  was 
more  and  more  distinguished  ;  but  it  was  by  those  whose 
neglect  of  me  would  have  been  a  mercy  ;  by  their  nominal 
kindness  I  was  made  to  taste  of  pleasures  to  which  I  had 
before  been  a  stranger,  and  those  pleasures  were  eagerly 
zested.  I  became  what  is  called  very  good  company,  and 
I  resolved  to  see  and  become  acquainted  with  life ;  yet  I 
determined  my  knowledge  of  the  town  and  its  pleasures, 
should  not  affect  my  standing  in  the  religious  world.  But  I 
was  miserably  deceived.  Gradually  my  former  habits  seemed 


112  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

to  fade  from  my  recollection.  To  my  new  connections  I  gave 
and  received  from  them  what  I  then  believed  pleasure 
without  alloy.  Of  music  and  dancing  I  was  very  fond,  and 
I  delighted  in  convivial  parties.  Vauxhall,  the  playhouses, 
were  charming.  I  had  never  known  life  before.  It  is  true, 
m}''  secret  Mentor  sometimes  embittered  my  enjoj^ments. 
The  precepts,  the  example,  of  my  father,  stared  me  in  the 
face  ;  the  secret  sigh  of  my  bosom  arose,  as  I  mournfully 
reflected  on  what  I  had  lost.  But  I  had  not  sufficient  res- 
olution to  retrace  my  steps  ;  indeed,  I  had  little  leisure.  I 
was  in  a  perpetual  round  of  company.  I  was  intoxicated 
with  pleasure.  I  was  invited  into  one  society  and  another, 
until  there  was  hardly  a  society  in  London  of  which  I  was 
not  a  member. 

How  long  this  life  of  dissipation  would  have  lasted,  had 
not  my  resources  failed,  I  know  not.  I  occasionall}^  en- 
countered one  and  another  of  my  religious  connections, 
who  seriously  expostulated  with  me  ;  but  I  generally  ex- 
torted from  them  a  laugh,  which  ultimately  induced  them 
to  shun  me.  I  had  an  interview  with  Mr.  Barnstable,  a 
preacher  in  Mr.  Wesley's  connection,  and,  questioning  him 
respecting  man}^  whom  I  had  known,  he  informed  me  that 
Mr.  Trinbath,  at  whose  house  I  had  passed  so  delightful  an 
evening  with  Mr.  Whitefield,  in  the  city  of  Cork,  was  no 
more  !  His  beautiful  wife  had  quitted  her  husband,  her 
children,  and  her  mother,  and  accompanied  a  private  soldier 
to  America !  *  Her  doating  husband,  thus  cruelly  de- 
ceived, lost  first  his  reason,  and  afterwards  his  life.  Mr. 
Barnstable  inquired  what  had  become  of  me  so  long ;  and, 
after  severely  admonishmg  me,  he  pronounced  upon  me  an 
anathema^  and  quitted  me.     It  will  be  supposed  I  was  not 

*SeeChap.  VI.  — T.  W. 


LIFE    OF  REV,    JOHN  MURRAY,  113 

much  pleased  with  him,  and  assuredly  I  was  at  variance 
with  myself;  and,  above  all,  I  was  grievously  afflicted  for 
the  misfortunes  and  death  of  the  once  happ}-  Trinbath.  It 
has  often  been  a  matter  of  astonishment  to  me,  how,  after 
such  a  religious  education  as  I  had  received  ;  after  really^ 
vitally,  entering  into  the  spirit  of  the  life  to  which  I  was 
from  infancy  habituated  ;  after  feelingly  bearing  my  public 
testimony  against  the  follies  and  the  dissipation  of  the 
man3^,  —  I  should  so  entirely  renounce  a  life  of  serious  piet}^ 
and  embrace  a  life  of  frolic,  a  life  of  whim  !  It  is  also 
wonderful,  that,  thus  changed,  I  proceeded  no  further :  that 
I  was  guilty  of  no  flagrant  vices  ;  that  I  was  drawn  into  no 
fatal  snares.  Man}-  were  the  devices  emploj'ed  to  entangle 
me,  which  devices  I  never  deliberately  sought  to  avoid. 
Doubtless  I  was  upheld  by  the  good  hand  of  God  ;  for 
which  sustaining  power  my  full  soul  offers  its  grateful 
orisons. 

I  pursued  this  inconsiderate,  destructive  course  upwards 
of  a  3'ear,  never  permanently  reflecting  where  I  was,  or 
how  I  should  terminate  ni}"  career.  My  mone}'  was  nearly 
exhausted  ;  but  this  was  beneath  my  consideration  ;  and, 
as  I  have  said,  serious  reflection  was  arrested  by  large  cir- 
cles of  friends  successively  engaging  me,  either  abroad  or 
at  home,  in  town  or  in  the  country.  Thus  did  my  life 
exhibit  a  constant  tissue  of  folly  and  indiscretion.  But 
the  time  of  my  emancipation  drew  near.  A  demand,  which 
I  had  barely  sufficient  to  answer,  was  made  upon  me  b}^  my 
tailor.  I  started,  and  stood  for  some  time  motionless.  The 
money,  which  I  believed  would  never  be  expended,  was 
already  gone.  I  saw  no  method  of  recruiting  my  finances, 
and  I  stood  appalled,  when,  at  this  distressing  moment,  a 
gay  companion  broke  in  upon  me.  He  was  on  his  way  to 
8 


114  LIFE    OF  REV.   JOHN  MURRAY, 

the  club.  There  was  to  be  grand  doings.  John  Wilkes, 
Esquire,  was  that  night  to  become  a  member.  I  instantl}^ 
forgot  everything  of  a  gloomy  nature,  and  went  off  as  light 
as  a  feathered  inhabitant  of  the  air.  I  never  was  fond  of 
the  pleasures  of  the  bottle ;  of  social  pleasures,  no  one 
more  so  ;  and  that  I  might  enjoy  society  with  an  unbroken 
zest,  I  have  frequently  thrown  the  wine  under  the  table, 
rejoicing  that  I  thus  preserved  my  reason. 

This  period  of  my  life  had  so  much  of  variet}^  and  yet 
so  much  of  sameness,  that  a  picture  of  a  week  would  be 
nearly  a  complete  exhibition  of  all  m}^  deviations.  Suffice 
it  to  say  that  I  plunged  into  the  vortex  of  pleasure,  greedily 
grasping  at  enjoyments  which  both  m}^  habits  and  my  cir- 
cumstances should  have  taught  me  to  shun.  Upon  this 
subject  I  do  not  love  to  dwell.  If  possible,  I  would  erase 
it  from  my  recollection ;  and  yet  I  derive  abundant  satis- 
faction from  the  manifestation  of  divine  goodness  so  strik- 
ingly exemplified  through  the  whole  of  my  wanderings,  in 
preserving  me,  by  the  strong  arm  of  the  Almight3^  from 
numerous  evils  to  which,  in  the  society  I  frequented,  and  in 
the  city  where  I  resided,  I  was  hourly  exposed.  But,  as  I 
said,  necessity,  imperious  necessity,  compelled  me  to  pause  ; 
and  it  was,  in  truth,  a  blessed  necessity.  Had  I  been 
inclined  to  forget  that  my  whole  stock  was  expended,  the 
frequent  calls  made  upon  me  for  moneys  which  I  could  not 
pay  would  have  constituted  a  uniform  and  impressive 
memento.  My  embarrassments  were  soon  rumored  abroad  ; 
and  although  I  had  many  friends  who  appeared  to  regard 
money  as  little  as  myself,  who,  declaring  they  could  not 
exist  without  me,  insisted  upon  my  being  of  their  parties, 
yet  a  consciousness  of  dependence  rendered  me  wretched, 
while  indirect  remarks,  thrown  out  by  some  individuals, 


LIFE    OF  REV.  JOHN  MURRAl.  115 

served  to  increase  my  wretchedness.  Easter  holj'dajs  are, 
in  England,  days  of  comiviality.  Parties  of  pleasure  were 
everywhere  forming.  M}^  connections  were  hastening  to 
my  favorite  retreat,  Richmond.  Inclination  led  me  to  join 
them  ;  bat  they  either  were  not,  or  I  sus^Dected  the}'  were 
not,  as  usual,  warm  in  their  solicitations,  and  I  declined  a 
less  importunate  invitation.  I,  however,  took  a  solitary' 
walk,  and  I  met  reflection  on  the  wa3\  I  had  in  the  world 
but  one  half-penny,  and  a  mendicant,  asking  alms,  crossed 
my  path.  I  gave  him  my  half-penny  and  walked  on,  till, 
passing  out  of  the  city,  I  advanced  into  the  fields.  I  began 
to  feel  exhausted  ;  and  under  the  wide-spreading  shade  of 
a  tree  I  sat  me  down.  I  continued  for  some  time  in  a 
state  of  fixed  despair,  regardless  of  life  and  ever3'thing 
which  it  had  to  bestow.  The  eye  of  retrospection  ran  over 
past  scenes.  I  remembered  my  father's  house,  and  the 
plenty  which,  particularly  at  this  season,  reigned  there. 
This  was  nearly  the  anniversary  of  his  death.  The  mourn- 
ful scene  passed  in  review  before  me.  His  paternal  advice, 
his  paternal  praj-ers,  flashed  upon  my  soul.  The  eye  of  my 
mind  dwelt  upon  the  family  I  had  deserted.  Oh,  could 
they  now  behold  me !  "Would  they  not  be  gratified  ?  I 
hoped  the}"  would.  Their  pity  would  have  pained  me  most 
exquisitely.  Still  my  emotions  were  not  of  an  ameliorating 
description.  My  heart  was  indurated,  and,  had  I  possessed 
the  means,  I  should  have  proceeded  in  the  path  of  destruc- 
tion. At  length  I  seemed  awakened  to  a  full  sense  of  the 
horrors  of  my  situation  ;  my  heart  throbbed  with  anguish 
as  I  spontaneously  exclaimed,  "  Am  I  the  son  of  such  a 
man,  the  son  of  such  parents?  Am  I  that  pious  youth  so 
much,  and  by  so  many,  admired?  Am  I  the  preacher,  who 
at  so  early  a  period  preached  to  others,  drawing  tears  from 


116  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY, 

the  eyes  of  those  who  heard  me?  And  is  it  thus  my  jour- 
ne}'  to  England  terminates?  Am  I  now  alone  and 
unfriended,  without  an  extricating  hand  to  save  me? 
Whither,  ah  !  whither  shall  I  go,  and  what  step  is  now  to 
be  taken?"  At  this  moment  the  voice  of  consolation 
vibrated  upon  my  mental  ear  :  ^'  Imitate  the  prodigal  of 
old.  Arise,  and  go  unto  your  Father ;  say,  I  have  sinned 
against  heaven  and  in  thy  sight ;  I  am  no  longer  worthy. to 
be  called  thy  son  ;  but  beseech  him,  nevertheless,  to  receive 
}ou  into  his  service."  This  counsel,  proceeding  from  a 
quarter  from  which  I  had  not  for  a  long  season  heard, 
deeply  affected  me,  and  bitterl}^  did  I  weep  in  the  dread  of 
that  refusal,  which,  should  I  venture  to  follow  the  guidance 
of  the  monitor  within,  I  was,  alas !  but  too  certain  of 
receiving.  A  thousand  thoughts,  like  a  swarm  of  insects, 
buzzed  around  me,  but  no  thought  gave  me  peace.  How 
exquisite  was  the  torture  which  at  this  moment  I  suffered ! 
But  the  approach  of  evening  roused  me  to  a  conviction  of 
the  necessity  of  moving ;  but  whither  should  I  go  ?  that 
was  the  question.  ''  Suppose,"  said  my  invisible  monitor, 
"  you  go  to  the  tabernacle  ?  "  and,  bursting  into  a  flood  of 
tears,  I  said,  "Yes,  I  will  present  myself  among  the  mul- 
titude—  yes,  I  will  go;  but  how  shall  I  meet  the  eye  of 
any  individual  who  has  formerly  known  me?  How  dare  I 
stand  among  the  worshippers  of  that  God  whom  I  have  so 
grossly  offended  ?  Yet  I  will  go ; "  and  with  slow  and 
mournful  steps  I  walked  forward.  The  congregation  had 
assembled.  I  entered,  taking  my  stand  under  the  gallery. 
[  dared  not  raise  my  eyes  ;  they  were  bathed  in  tears. 
Mr.  "VVhitefield,  in  his  usual  energetic  manner,  addressed 
his  audience ;  but  no  sound  of  consolation  reached  me. 
At  last,  he  said,  "  But  there  may  be,  in  some  corner  of 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURE  AY.  117 

this  bouse,  a  poor,  desponding,  despairing  soul,  who,  hav- 
ing sinned,  greatly  sinned  against  God  and  against  him- 
self, may  be  afraid  to  lift  toward  heaven  hisguilt}-  eye.  He 
ma}',  at  this  moment,  be  suffering  tlie  dreadful  consequen- 
ces of  his  wandering  from  the  sources  of  true  happiness  ; 
and  possibly  he  may  apprehend  he  shall  never  be  permitted 
to  return  !  If  there  be  any  one  of  this  description  present, 
I  have  to  inform  such  individual  that  God  is  still  his  loving 
Father  ;  that  he  says,  '  Return  unto  me,  my  poor,  backslid- 
ing child,  and  I  will  heal  your  backslidings  and  love  j^ou 
freel3\'  What  message  shall  I  return  my  Master  from  j^ou, 
my  poor,  afflicted,  wandering,  weeping  brother?  Shall  I 
say,  5'ou  are  suitably  penetrated  b}^  his  gracious  invitation, 
and  that  3'ou  would  come  with  weeping  and  supplication ; 
that  3'ou  would  fly  with  gratitude  and  prostrate  yourself 
before  him,  were  you  not  so  much  injured  by  your  wander- 
ings ;  that  you  feel  you  are  not  able,  and  that  you  should 
blush  to  ask  his  assistance  ?  Is  this  3'our  message  ?  Poor, 
poor  soul !  never  fear ;  }^our  gracious  Father  will  shortly 
send  you  every  needful  aid."  All  this  was  said  to  me  ;  at 
least,  to  m}^  wondering  spirit  it  thus  appeared ;  and  I 
seemed  as  if  expiring  amid  the  mingling  emotions  of  regret, 
apprehension,  and  hope. 

I  left  the  tabernacle  under  these  potent  impressions  ; 
and,  crossing  Moorfields,  I  was  overtaken  by  one  of  m\' 
old  religious  connections,  who,  regarding  me  with  wonder, 
said,  "  Am  I  so  happy  as  to  see  3'ou,  one  of  the  man3'  who 
were  at  the  tabernacle  this  evening?"  My  repl3'  was 
indicative  of  the  sorrow  of  m}'  heart.  He  proceeded  to 
make  many  remarks,  until,  in  the  moment  of  separation,  he 
said,  ''  Well,  my  friend,  perhaps  you  will  go  from  hence 
into  compan3'  where  3'Ou  will  forget  all  that  3'OU  have  this 


118  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

evening  heard."  My  heart  was  very  full ;  and  from  its 
abundance  I  said,  "  No,  never  will  I  again  mingle  in  circles 
calculated  to  efface  impressions  which  I  will  cherish  to  the 
latest  hour  of  my  existence.  Let  these  tears,  these  fast- 
falling  tears,  evince  my  sincerity."  My  friend  rejoiced  in 
the  prospect  of  my  returning  to  the  path  from  which  I  had 
wandered  ;  but  he  rejoiced  with  fear  and  trembling.  He 
knew  m}^  connections  were  numerous,  and  that  my  vivacity 
rendered  me  the  life  of  those  convivial  circles  where  I  had 
so  long  figured.  But  the  grace  of  God  upheld  me,  and 
never,  from  that  moment,  did  I  unite  with  those  associates, 
from  whom  I  was  at  first  separated  by  necessity. 

I  was  now  an  insulated  being.  I  carefully  avoided  my 
former  companions,  and  m}^  religious  connections  avoided 
me  ;  thus  I  had  now  abundant  leisure  for  reflection.  Some 
time  elapsed  before  the  change  which  had  taken  place 
reached  the  extremity  of  those  circles  in  which  I  had 
moved.  Many  who  heard  lent  no  credence  to  a  report 
which  they  believed  without  foundation.  The  greater  num- 
ber of  those  laughter-loving  beings  who  had  attached  them- 
selves to  me,  never  having  imbibed  an}^  religious  senti- 
ments, had  not  learned  the  habits  of  my  former  life.  Many 
individuals  called  upon  me  as  usual,  and  found  me  a  differ- 
ent man  from  him  whom  they  had  been  accustomed  to  see. 
A  few,  suspecting  the  cause,  sought  to  relieve  my  mind  by 
warm  and  liberal  assurances  of  never-failing  friendship ; 
and  they  generously  tendered  the  unlimited  use  of  their 
purses  !  I  made  my  acknowledgments  ;  but  assured  them, 
the  whole  world,  as  a  bribe,  would  be  insuflScient  to  lead  me 
again  into  paths  of  folly.  I  was  not,  I  said,  unhappy 
because  I  no  longer  possessed  ability  to  run  the  career  of 
error  ;  certainly  not.     M}^  infelicity  originated  from  the  con- 


I 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  119 

sideration  that  I  had  ever  receded  from  the  paths  of  peace. 
Some  resented  m}^  remarks  as  a  tacit  insult  upon  them- 
selves ;  others  ridiculed  me,  and  pronounced  me  under  the 
influence  of  a  strong  delirium ;  and  two  or  three,  who  still 
loved  me  too  well  to  separate  themselves  from  me,  were, 
for  a  time,  induced  to  reflect  seriously  upon  their  own  situa- 
tion ;  but  these,  also,  shortly  disappeared ;  and  of  the 
numerous  triflers,  with  whom  I  had  so  many  months  flut- 
tered, not  a  single  loiterer  remained  ;  and  most  devoutly 
did  I  render  thanks  to  Almighty  God  for  extricating  me 
from  such  associates.  I  boarded  in  the  house  of  a  very 
livel}',  vivacious  man  ;  indeed,  his  whole  family  might  have 
been  denominated  sons  and  daughters  of  mirth.  This  fact 
had  been  their  principal  recommendation  to  me  ;  but  it  now 
added  to  the  burden  of  my  mind.  I  made  inquiry  after 
another  lodging ;  but,  on  contemplating  a  removal,  diflScul- 
ties  to  which  I  had  not  before  recurred  stared  me  in  the 
face.  I  was  considerably  in  arrears  to  my  host,  and,  as  I 
must  depart  in  a  difl"erent  state  of  mind  from  that  \\hich  1 
was  in  when  I  became  his  lodger,  and  which  had  impressed 
him  in  my  favor,  I  could  not  expect  he  would  be  very 
kindl}^  disposed  toward  me.  I  was  indebted  to  others,  and 
my  distresses  seemed  hourl}^  to  accumulate.  Both  pres- 
ent and  future  support  were  alike  beyond  my  reach,  and 
it  appeared  to  me  I  had  attained  the  climax  of  misery.  I 
closed  my  door ;  I  prostrated  myself  before  the  God  who 
had  created  me.  Again  my  sad,  my  sorrowing  heart,  revis- 
ited the  home  I  had  abandoned.  Stripped  of  its  allure- 
ments, my  mad  passion  for  travelling  appeared  in  its 
native  deformity.  Agonizing  dread  overtook  me,  and  my 
terrified  imagination  pointed  out  and  anticipated  a  thousand 
horrors.     Many  devices  were  suggested  to  my  forlorn  mind, 


120  LIFE    OF  llEV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

and  death  itself  was  presented  as  my  last  resort.  But 
starting  from  an  idea  so  impious,  "  Let  me,"  I  exclaimed, 
"  at  least  avoid  plunging  into  irremediable  perdition."  Thus 
I  spent  the  daj^,  and  in  the  evening  I  attended  the  taberna- 
cle. I  considered  myself,  while  there,  as  the  most  destitute 
individual  in  the  whole  assembly.  I  generally  occupied  a 
remote  corner  ;  m}^  arms  were  folded,  my  eyes  cast  down, 
and  m}^  tears  flowing.  Indeed,  my  eyes  were  seldom  dr}^, 
and  my  heart  was  always  full ;  for,  at  this  period  of  my 
life,  I  rarely  tasted  anything  like  consolation.  Coming  out 
of  the  tabernacle  one  evening,  a  serious  young  man  thus 
accosted  me :  "  Cheer  up,  thou  weeping,  sorrowing  soul ; 
be  of  good  cheer,  thy  God  will  save  thee."  I  caught  his 
hand.  "  God  bless  you,  my  dear  sir,  whoever  you  are  ! 
But  you  do  not  know  to  whom  you  are  speaking."  —  "  Oh, 
yes,  I  am  speaking  to  a  sinner,  like  myself."  —  *'  No,  no," 
I  returned ;  "  the  wide  world  does  not  contain  so  great  a 
sinner  as  myself;  for,  in  the  face  of  an  education  calcu- 
lated to  eradicate  every  evil  propensity,  and  of  precepts 
and  examples  drawn  from  our  most  holy  religion,  which 
ought  to  have  rendered  me  a  uniform  servant  of  the  Most 
High,  I  have  mingled  in  circles,  consisting  of  the  idle,  the 
dissipated,  and  the  profane.  I  have  run  the  career  of  folly, 
and  the  anguish  of  my  soul  is  a  consequence  of  my  mani- 
fold offences."  The  kind-hearted  young  man  strove  to  pour 
into  my  wounds  the  oil  and  wine  of  consolation.  We 
walked  together  quite  through  Moorfields.  At  his  request 
I  promised  to  meet  him  at  the  tabernacle  the  ensuing  even- 
ing, and  I  was  greatly  impatient  for  the  appointed  time. 
Passing  Moorfields,  agreeably  to  my  engagements,  I  beheld 
a  large  congregation  assembled  to  hear  one  of  Mr.  Wes- 
ley's pieachers.     1  tarried  until  I  saw  the  preacher  mount 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY,  121 

the  stage,  but  what  were  m}^  emotions,  when  I  recognized 
him  of  whom  I  was  so  fond  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Little,  and 
who  first  introduced  me  as  a  public  speaker.  I  hastily 
withdrew  from  the  place,  terrified,  lest  his  eye  should  meet 
mine  ;  but  my  soul  was  tortured  b}'  the  comparison  of  what 
I  was,  when  I  first  saw  him,  with  my  present  situation.  I 
was  this  evening  much  affected.  Indeed,  it  was  impossible 
for  an}^  child  of  sorrow  to  attend  upon  Mr.  Whitefield 
without  feelings  of  the  most  impressive  nature.  I  looked 
around  for  my  companion  of  the  past  evening,  but  I  saw 
him  not,  and  I  was  pained  by  the  disappointment.  On 
my  departing  from  the  tabernacle,  however,  he  again  took 
my  hand,  assuring  me  he  was  glad  to  see  me,  and  repeating 
a  verse  of  a  hj'mn  :  "  We  shall  not  always  make  our  moan," 
etc.,  which  hymn  I  had  often  sung,  and  of  which  I  was 
very  fond.  I  melted  into  tears.  This  man  appeared  to  me 
as  an  angel  of  God,  and  most  devoutly  did  I  bless  the 
Father  of  my  spirit  for  sending  me  such  a  comforter.  I 
was  in  haste  to  unbosom  mj'self  to  him,  to  make  him 
acquainted  with  the  extent  of  my  errors  ;  but  this  was  a 
subject  upon  which  he  did  not  seem  in  haste  to  hear  me. 
He,  however,  urged  me  to  draw  consolation  from  the  prom- 
ises of  our  God,  which  he  pronounced  all  yea  and  amen  in 
the  Redeemer.  He  also  expressed  a  wish  to  meet  me  at 
the  table  of  the  Lord  upon  the  following  Sunda3^  For 
this  my  own  heart  ardently  panted,  and  I  engaged,  if  pos- 
sible, to  obtain  a  ticket  of  admittance.  M}^  concern  for 
my  very  reprehensible  aberrations,  as  they  affected  my 
spiritual  interest,  so  completely  occupied  m}^  mind  that  I 
had  little  leisure  for  reflection  upon  m}'  pecuniar}'  embar- 
rassments ;  yet  my  circumstances  were  trul}*  deplorable.  I 
was  in   debt,  without  the   means  of  making  payment,  nor 


122  LIFE    OF  REV.  JOHX  MURRAY. 

had  I  any  prospect  of  future  support.  I  disdained  to  ask 
charit}',  and  the  business  of  which  I  obtained  a  superficial 
knowledge  in  Ireland  was  not  encouraged  in  London.  The 
friend  whom  I  first  saw  at  the  tabernacle  had  continued  a 
vigilant  observer  of  my  conduct.  He  had  frequently  visited 
me,  and  my  e3'es  convinced  him  I  was  no  longer  the  ga}^, 
inconsiderate  wanderer,  but  truly  a  man  of  sorrow.  Com- 
passionating my  sufferings,  he  invited  me  to  his  pleasant 
home,  and,  in  a  voice  of  friendship,  requested  I  would  pour 
into  his  bosom  all  my  griefs.  I  did  so,  and  his  resolution 
was  instantly  taken.  To  my  great  consolation  he  engaged 
to  procure  me  immediately  another  lodging,  to  make  my 
present  landlord  easy,  and  to  procure  for  me,  if  I  was  will- 
ing, the  means  of  future  support ;  and  this,  without  render- 
ing me  dependent,  except  upon  my  own  regular  efi'orts, 
and  the  Being  who  had  called  me  into  existence.  Let  the 
feeling  heart  judge  of  the  indescribable  transports  which 
this  conversation  originated  in  my  soul.  Gratitude  swelled 
in  m}^  bosom.  I  experienced  all  its  sweet  enthusiasm  ;  and 
hardly  could  I  control  my  impatience  for  the  execution  of 
a  plan  in  every  view  so  desirable.  The  lodging  was  imme- 
diately obtained.  It  was  at  the  house  of  an  old  lad}^  in 
Bishopgate's  Street,  where  was  appropriated  solel}^  to  my 
use  a  neat  and  well-furnished  apartment. 

The  succeeding  morning  this  benevolent  gentleman  at- 
tended me  to  my  late  lodging,  when,  inquiring  the  amount 
of  my  debt,  I  was  answered,  ''  Not  a  penny."  I  stood 
amazed.  "  No,"  said  my  good-natured  host. ''  not  a  pennj^ 
But,  pray  what  is  the  matter,  where  have  you  been,  where 
are  3'ou  going?  Oh,  dear!  oh,  dear!  th<\se  abominable 
Methodists  have  spoiled  as  clever  a  fellow  as  ever  broke 
bread.    I  suppose  you  think  we  are  not  good  enough  for  you. 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX   MURRAY.  123 

and  so  you  wish  to  leave  us."  I  was  greatly  affected. 
"  Excuse  me,  sir ;  1  do  not  believe  m3'self  a  whit  better 
than  5^ou  ;  but,  sir,  I  am  afraid  of  mj^self."  —  "Ah!  you 
have  no  occasion;  lam  sorry  you  are  going,  —  upon  my 
soul  I  am.  You  ought  to  stay  and  convert  me."  —  "  Ah  ! 
sir,  it  is  God  who  must  convert  both  yow  and  me."  We 
shed  tears  at  parting  ;  but  our  tears  flowed  from  a  different 
source.  He  wept  that  he  should  no  more  be  amused  with 
the  whim  and  frolic  of  a  gay  young  man  ;  I,  that  I  had  ever 
sojourned  in  his  house.  I  was,  however,  suitabl}'  im- 
pressed by  his  kindness,  although  our  intercourse  from  this 
moment  entirel}^  ceased.  The  following  week  I  obtained  a 
situation  as  one  of  the  aids  to  an  inspector  of  a  broadcloth 
manufactor3'.  I  was  glad  to  obtain  employment  at  any 
rate.  Yet  it  is  a  fact  I  was  never  designed  for  a  man  of 
business.  Nor  was  I  full}^  satisfied  with  m}'  pssociates; 
the}'  were  not  in  m}'  ^va}',  and  the}',  therefore,  made  me  a 
subject  of  ridicule.  This  to  weak  minds  is  perhaps  a 
species  of  persecution  of  all  others  the  most  diflScult  to 
endure.  I  certainly  suffered  much  from  it ;  but,  if  I  could 
obtain  no  satisfaction  with  them,  I  had  the  more  whenever 
I  left  them,  which  was  upon  the  evening  of  ever}^  day  and 
the  whole  of  Sunday.  I  was  delighted  b3'the  consideration 
that  I  was  living  by  mj'  own  exertions,  and  in  a  way 
to  discharge  debts  which  were  a  heavy  burden  upon  my 
mind.  I  lived  frugalh',  retrenching  every  superfluity,  and 
uniformly  den3'ing  mj'self  all  but  the  absolute  necessaries 
of  life  ;  and  I  had  ver}^  soon  the  felicit}-  of  knowing  that  I 
had  no  longer  a  creditor.  This  complete  exoneration  was 
followed  by  a  newly  revived  and  ecstatic  hope  of  being 
again  admitted  to  my  Father's  house,  from  which  I  once 
feared  I   was  eternall}'  excluded  ;    and  I  deemed  myself 


124  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

happ3%  bej^ond  expression  happ}^,  upon  comparing  mj'self 
with  tliose  among  wliom  I  was  compelled  to  live  ;  who  were 
posting,  without  concern,  in  what  I  deemed  the  road  to 
ruin,  from  which  I  had  by  divine  favor  been  mercifully 
drawn.  My  bosom  swelled  with  the  most  delightful  sensa- 
tions, while  I  frequently  exclaimed,  "  Lord,  why  me?  Why 
take  me,  and  leave  these  poor,  unfortunate  beings  to  perish 
in  a  state  of  sin  and  misery  ?  "  But  such  was  the  sovereign 
will  and  pleasure  of  my  God  ;  he  would  have  mercy  on 
whom  he  would  have  mercy,  and  whom  he  would  he  hard- 
ened. Sometimes,  indeed,  my  soul  was  sick  with  doubt 
and  apprehension.  AYhen  engaged  in  the  work  of  self-ex- 
amination, one  evil  propensity  after  another,  which  I  had 
believed  dead,  seemed  to  revive  in  my  bosom.  I  feared 
that  my  faith  was  all  fancy  ;  and  that  the  hope  which  I 
encouraged  was  the  hope  of  the  h3'pocrite,  which  would  be 
as  the  giving  up  of  the  ghost.  Upon  these  occasions  I 
experienced  unutterable  anguish,  and  my  daj^s  and  nights 
were,  with  very  little  intermission,  devoted  to  sorrow.  The 
distress  I  so  evidentl}'  suffered  endeared  me  to  my  relig- 
ious connections  ;  every  one  of  whom  endeavored  to  admin- 
ister consolation,  encouraging  me  to  cherish  hope,  from  the 
consideration  of  m}'  despair  !  My  life  was  now  more  active 
than  it  had  ever  been,  and  my  connections  more  numerous. 
I  was  much  occupied  by  business,  yet  ni}-  hours  of  devotion 
were  sacred.  I  rose  at  four  o'clock  in  summer  and  winter. 
My  meals  consumed  but  a  small  portion  of  time.  The 
moments  thus  passed  by  others  were  by  me  devoted  to 
private  prayer.  My  evenings  were  passed  at  the  taberna- 
€le,  and  when  Mr.  Whitefield  preached  my  soul  was  trans- 
ported. I  returned  home  exceedingly  refreshed,  and, 
prostrating  myself  at  the  footstool  of  my  Maker,  I  acknowl- 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  125 

edged  with  gratitude  the  tender  mercies  of  my  Redeemer, 
who  had  graciously  separated  me  from  those  who  were 
murdering  their  time  and  their  precious  souls  ;  and  m\' 
thanksffivino^s  were  reiterated  to  that  God  who  had  merci •• 
fully  rescued  me  from  enormities  so  prodigious.  Thus 
rolled  on  the  week  until  Sunday  ;  to  me,  indeed,  a  hoi}' 
day,  and  one  to  which  I  looked  forward  with  the  most  de- 
lightful anticipations.  Upon  this  morning  I  arose  even 
earlier  than  usual ;  attending  either  at  the  tabernacle,  or  at 
the  chapel  in  Tottenham-court,  at  which  places  the  com- 
munion was  alternately  given  every  Sunday  morning. 
Great  numbers  attended  upon  these  occasions,  who  were 
not  regular  tabernacle  worshippers ;  obtaining  a  ticket 
of  admittance  they  took  their  seats.  It  appeared  to  me 
like  a  prelibation  of  heaven.  The  elect  of  God  from 
every  denomination  assembled  round  the  table  of  the 
Lord ;  a  word  of  consolation  was  always  given,  and  an 
evangelical  hymn  most  delightfully  sung.  These  Sunday 
mornings  were,  indeed,  golden  opportunities  ;  my  doubts 
were  generall}'  removed,  and  I  came  home  in  raptures.  It 
was  in  such  a  peacefully  religious  frame  of  mind  as  this 
that  I  was  passing  from  the  tabernacle  on  a  fine  summer's 
morning,  deriving  high  satisfaction -from  the  consideration 
that  I  loved  the  brethren.  I  know,  said  I,  internally,  that 
I  have  passed  from  death  unto  life,  because  I  love  the  breth- 
ren. It  is  true  I  felt  a  ver\'  strong  affection  for  those  with 
whom  I  had  communed  in  the  tabernacle  ;  but,  passing  over 
Moorfields,  I  saw  a  crowd  of  people  collected  under  the 
shade  of  a  large  tree.  I  inquired  of  a  passenger  what 
occasioned  the  assembling  of  such  a  multitude  ;  and  I  was 
informed  one  of  James  Kelly's  preachers  was  disseminating 
his  damnable  doctrines  to  the  infatuated  people  !     Mj'  soul 


126  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

kindled  with  indignation  ;  and,  from  the  abundance  of  a 
heart  overflowing  with  religious  zeal,  I  could  not  forbear 
exclaiming,  "  Merciful  God  !  How  is  it  that  thou  wilt  suffer 
this  demon  thus  to  proceed  ?  Are  not  mankind  naturally 
bad  enough,  but  must  these  wretches  be  suffered  to  give 
publicit}'  to  tenets  so  pernicious,  so  destructive,  —  thus  in 
the  name  of  God  doing  the  work  of  the  devil?"  At  this 
period  I  should  have  considered  myself  highly  favored  to 
have  been  made  an  instrument,  in  the  hand  of  God,  for  tak- 
ing the  life  of  a  man  whom  I  had  never  heard,  nor  even 
seen ;  and,  in  destro3'ing  him,  I  should  have  nothing 
doubted  that  I  had  rendered  essential  service  both  to  the 
Creator  and  the  created.  I  did  not  then  know  how  much  I 
was  leavened  with  the  leaven  of  the  Pharisees  ;  and  that, 
notwithstanding  m}^  assurance  of  having  passed  from  death 
unto  life,  in  consequence  of  loving  the  brethren,  this  boasted 
love  extended  to  none  but  those  of  my  own  persuasion.  I 
always  returned  from  the  tabernacle  with  my  heart  filled 
with  religious  zeal.  The  intermission  of  public  worship 
was  always  appropriated  to  private  devotion  ;  in  a  word, 
all  my  devotional  habits  were  restored,  and  my  Sundays 
were  an  exact  transcript  of  those  which  I  had  passed  in  the 
family  of  my  father.  The  Sunday's  upon  which  I  took  m}^ 
seat  at  the  communion  table  in  the  chapel  were  more  abun- 
dantly fatiguing.  The  chapel  was  some  miles  from  my 
lodgings  ;  but  I  never  absented  myself  either  summer  or 
winter,  and  I  greatly  exulted  when  I  was  the  first  who  ap- 
peared within  its  consecrated  walls.  The  more  I  suffered 
in  reaching  this  place,  the  more  I  enjoyed  w^hen  there. 
And  often  while  passing  the  streets  of  London  in  the  midst 
of  rain  or  snow,  my  heart  has  swelled  with  transport  in  the 
thought  that  I  was  going  to  heaven  by  means  of  these  diffi- 


LIFE    OF  REV,    JOHN  MURRAY.  127 

culties  aud  trials  ;  while  the  many  who  were  then  sleeping 
were  suspended  over  the  pit  of  destruction,  into  which  the}' 
must  one  day  fall,  to  rise  again  no  more  forever.  And 
why,  oh,  why,  I  used  to  repeat,  am  I  snatched  as  a  brand 
from  the  burning?  Why  am  I,  an  offender  against  light, 
precept,  and  example,  made  a  blessed  heir  of  heaven,  while 
far  the  greater  part  of  m}'  species  are  consigned  to  endless 
misery?  There  were  a  number  of  3'oung  people  of  both 
sexes,  who,  having  assembled  from  a  great  distance,  could 
not  return  home  after  service  in  season  for  breakfast.  One 
of  the  society  kept  a  house  near  the  chapel,  where  individ- 
uals thus  circumstanced  were  accommodated.  There  we 
often  collected,  and  our  opportunities  were  delightful.  Be- 
ing remarkable  for  a  humble  demeanor,  I  was  on  this 
account  much  noticed  and  caressed  ;  and  I  rarely  quitted 
the  assembly  without  a  heart  overflowing  with  love  and 
gratitude  toward  God  and  his  dear  children.  I  was  not 
confined  to  any  particular  place  of  worship.  I  was  accus- 
tomed to  present  myself,  at  the  stated  times,  in  various 
congregations.  Wherever  I  heard  of  a  great  man,  I  made 
a  point  of  attending  upon  his  labors.  Among  the  many 
places  of  public  worship  to  which  I  resorted,  there  was  a 
Baptist  meeting,  where  I  obtained  great  satisfaction.  The 
minister  was  a  warm,  animated  preacher,  and  the  people  un- 
commonly serious.  To  this  house  many  of  the  tabernacle 
adherents  resorted ;  for,  at  this  time,  there  was  no  service 
at  that  place,  except  in  the  morning  and  evening.  In  a 
vestiy  attached  to  the  Baptist  meeting  many  of  the  con- 
gregation met  before  the  commencement  of  divine  service, 
and  some  of  them  alternatel}^  sang  and  prayed.  By  those 
persons  I  was  received  with  great  kindness.  This  aflected 
me  exceedingly  ;  and,  perceiving  that  it  did,  they  loved  me 


128  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

yet  more  for  the  value  I  evidently  set  upon  their  affectiou, 
till,  at  length,  I  became  an  object  of  general  attention. 
United  plans  were  laid  to  draw  me  out,  and  I  had  pressing 
invitations  to  their  religious  societies,  and  afterwards  to 
their  houses.  The  minister  distinguished  me  ;  solicited  me 
to  visit  him  ;  and  delighted  to  speak  peace  to  me,  both 
publicl}'  and  privateU'.  I  was  entreated  to  pray  in  the 
societ}^,  which,  as  a  timid  and  unpatronized  stranger,  I  had 
so  recentl}^  entered !  I  complied,  and  every  one  seemed 
affected.  I  myself  was  greatly  moved,  deeply  penetrated  b}' 
reflection  upon  what  I  had  been,  and  what  I  then  was,  and 
my  soul  was  transported  by  the  consideration  that  I  was 
readmitted  into  the  society  of  the  people  of  God.  My 
presence  was  now  anxiously  expected  in  the  congregation, 
and  at  the  house  of  many  individuals.  I  was  marked  by 
those  who  attended  at  the  tabernacle,  and  many  other 
places  of  worship  ;  and  I  was  so  much  caressed  by  serious 
people  of  sundry  persuasions,  that,  when  I  have  been 
asked  what  denomination  I  was  of,  I  have  replied,  an  inde- 
pendent Baptist,  Methodist,  Churchman.  I  hardly  knew 
which  of  those  I  liked  best,  or  loved  most ;  and  Mr.  White- 
field,  upon  whom  they  all  occasionally  attended,  strove, 
both  by  precept  and  example,  to  convince  us  that  a  differ- 
ence respecting  non-essentials  was  utterly  inconsistent 
with  the  Christian  character. 

Among  the  many  who  extended  to  me  the  hand  of  amity 
was  a  merchant,  who  never  appeared  so  happy  as  when 
conversing  with  me.  He  received  me  into  his  house,  and 
emplo3'ed  me  in  his  counting-room.  Here  I  fancied  my  cir- 
cumstances improved,  but  I  was  deceived.  This  gentle- 
man was  a  mere  superficial  professor  of  religion,  which, 
when  I   discovered,  I  determined  to  return  to  my  former 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  129 

situation.  I  had  paid  all  my  debts.  I  was  eas\',  and  oc- 
casionally happy,  and  I  allowed  myself  many  little  indul- 
gences, which,  while  a  debtor,  I  should  have  believed 
criminal. 

The  leaving  my  new  patron  gave  me,  however,  some 
pain  ;  he  had  a  very  high  opinion  of  me,  although  I  could 
not  reciprocate  his  esteem.  He  was  ambitious  of  obtaining 
a  name  in  the  church,  and  for  this  purpose  he  contemplated 
the  observance  of  morning  and  evening  prayer  in  his  family  ; 
but,  not  being  an  early  riser,  he  was  at  a  loss  to  know  how 
to  reconcile  his  devotions  with  his  business.  At  last  he 
said,  "  You,  my  friend,  are  accustomed  to  perform  the 
honors  of  my  table.  If  you  prolong  your  grace  at  break- 
fast, it  will  answer  for  morning  prayer  !  "  Greatly  shocked, 
and  completely  disgusted,  my  determination  to  quit  him 
was  confirmed.  I  was  still  very  communicative,  and,  con- 
sequently, the  reason  of  my  departure  was  generally  known  ; 
so  that  my  once  warm  friend  was,  as  may  be  supposed,  con- 
verted into  a  bitter  enemy.  I  was,  however,  rather  com- 
mended than  censured,  while  the  conduct  of  the  man  of 
business  excited  general  contempt.  This  gratified  me. 
Alas  !  the  piety  of  this  world  is  based  on  pride.  I  now 
became,  as  far  as  I  was  known,  an  object  of  attention 
in  every  place  where  vital  religion,  as  it  was  phrased, 
obtained  its  votaries.  Mr.  Romaine,  Mr.  Jones,  and  many 
other  clergymen  distinguished  me.  Hints  were  thrown 
out  respecting  my  once  more  coming  forward  as  a  public 
teacher;  but  against  this  I  was  determined.  I  was  aston- 
ished that  I  had  ever  dared  to  venture  upon  so  responsible 
an  assumption  !  As  the  eternal  well-being  of  the  many  was 
supposed  to  rest  with  the  preacher,  an  error  in  judgment 
would  consequently  be  fatal  to  his  hearers  ;  and  as  1  bad 
9 


130  LIFE   OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAJ. 

now  learned  that  I  was  not  perfect  in  knowledge,  I  could  not 
be  assured  I  should  not  lead  the  people  astray ;  in  which 
tremendous  event  they  would,  to  all  eternity,  be  imprecating 
curses  on  my  head.  Considerations  of  such  magnitude 
were  sufficient  to  seal  my  lips  ;  but  I  was  characterized  as 
a  pattern  of  piet}',  and  m}'  experiences  were  greedily  sought 
by  individuals  of  various  denominations.  There  was  a 
society,  belonging  to  a  Baptist  meeting,  near  Good  Man's 
Fields,  which  met  statedly  at  each  other's  houses  once  ever^^ 
week ;  this  was  the  societ}^,  in  which  I  was  most  admired, 
and  to  which,  of  course,  I  was  the  most  attached.  In  this 
society  there  were  individuals  who,  like  myself,  were  taber- 
nacle worshippers,  but  who  attended  this  meeting  when 
there  was  no  service  there.  I  had  surrendered  up  my  whole 
soul  to  those  religious  exercises,  which  the  several  societies 
to  which  I  had  attached  myself  demanded.  M}^  plan  was 
to  devote  m3'self  wholly  to  my  God,  to  the  advancement  of 
my  spiritual  interest,  to  considerations  pertaining  to  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  Wedded  life,  a  family,  these  made  no 
part  of  my  plan.  I  was  persuaded  I  should  pass  my  life  in 
celibacy  ;  -and,  had  monastic  seclusion  consisted  with  Prot- 
estantism, I  should  gladly  have  embraced  its  retirement, 
with  its  duties.  In  the  society  collected  near  Good  Man's 
Fields  there  was  a  young  gentleman  remarkable  for  the 
sanctity  of  his  manners ;  we  were  strongly  and  mutually' 
attached  to  each  other.  Man}^  very  many  happy  hours  did 
we  pass  together.  During  the  winter,  we  were  constantly' 
at  the  tabernacle  before  da}'.  We  narrated  to  each  other 
our  experiences ;  we  prayed,  we  wept,  we  joyed,  and  sor- 
rowed together ;  and,  with  unfeigned  affection,  we  loved 
one  another.  I  questioned  him  respecting  his  connexions, 
when  he  informed  me  that  his  parents  had  died  in  his  in- 


LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  131 

fancy ;  that  he"  had  been  brought  up  b}^  his  grandfather, 
who  was  a  ver}-  profligate  old  gentleman,  and  abhorred  the 
very  name  of  Whitefield  !  But,  he  added,  that,  through  the 
mercy  of  God,  he  was  not  entirely  alone,  —  he  had  a  sister 
with  him  in  the  famil}^,  reared  also  by  his  grandparent, 
who  was  a  good  and  gracious  girl ;  that  their  nights  were 
frequently  devoted  to  prayer ;  but  that  they  dared  not  let 
their  grandfather  know  that  they  had  ever  been  seen  at  the 
tabernacle,  or  in  any  of  those  societies  from  which  the}" 
derived  their  chief  happiness.  Indeed,  he  observed,  his 
sister  seldom  ventured  out ;  but  he  had  made  such  repre- 
sentations of  me,  that  she  had  desired  him  to  let  her  know, 
when  I  should  again  meet  the  Baptist  societ}",  and  she 
would  make  a  point  of  being  there  ;  "  and,  I  request  j'ou," 
said  he,  "  my  dear  sir,  to  be  at  the  society  next  Sunda}' 
evening,  and  she  will  most  unquestionably  be  there."  I 
cannot  say  I  had  any  curiosity  respecting  this  3'oung  lad}- ; 
but  Sunday  night  came  ;  I  was  expected,  and  the  great  room 
was  filled  previous  to  my  arrival.  I  entered  ;  every  one  rose 
at  my  entrance,  and  I  felt  dignifiedly  pious,  seriously  happy. 
My  3'Oung  friend  approached,  and  told  me,  in  a  whisper, 
his  sister  would  have  been  greatl}"  disappointed  had  an}'- 
thing  detained  me  that  evening.  On  my  entrance  I  had 
glanced  at  a  young  lady,  extremel}^  beautiful,  who  appeared 
attired  by  the  hand  of  elegance.  It  was  with  diflSculty  I 
could  take  m}^  eyes  from  her  !  I  was  confounded.  I  changed 
my  seat,  that  I  might  not  behold  her,  and,  when  thus  ad- 
dressed by  Mr.  Neale,  I  responded  by  asking  where  his 
sister  was  seated,  when  he  pointed  to  the  fascinating  figure, 
who  had  so  imposingl}^  attracted  my  attention.  "  That 
3'oung  lady,  sir,  is  Miss  Neale  —  my  sister.  She  has  long 
wished  for  an  opportunity  of  seeing  you.    I  am  happy  that 


132  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

she  is  now  gratified."  An  introductiou  was  in  course.  1 
had  much  to  sa}^  through  the  evening,  and  my  friend  de- 
clared I  had  never  spoken  better.  I  addressed  the  throne 
of  grace.  My  own  heart  was  softened,  and  the  hearts  of  my 
audience  were  softened  also.  I  returned  home  ;  but  the 
beauteous  image  of  the  sister  of  my  friend  accompanied  me  ! 
I  could  not  for  a  moment  exclude  the  lovely  intruder  from 
my  imagination.  I  was  alarmed.  I  wept,  I  prayed  ;  but 
every  effort  was  fruitless ;  the  more  I  strove  to  forget  her, 
the  more  she  was  remembered.  I  was  impatient  to  behold 
her  again,  yet  I  most  devoutly  wished  we  had  never  met. 
I  was  convinced  my  peace,  my  happiness,  v»'ere  forever  fled  ! 
This  was  truly  astonishing,  —  I  had  recently  been  so  positive 
that  the  combined  sex  did  not  possess  the  power  to  engage 
my  attention  for  a  single  moment.  Some  time  elapsed, 
during  which  the  captivating  engrosser  of  my  heart  never 
relinquished,  no,  not  for  a  single  instant,  that  entire  pos- 
session which  she  had  taken  of  ni}'  imagination  ;  when, 
after  an  evening  lecture,  while  the  congregation  were 
quitting  the  meeting-house,  a  lady,  who  kept  a  boarding- 
school  for  young  ladies,  requested  I  would  pass  the  next 
evening  at  her  house,  as  her  young  people  were  to  collect 
their  friends,  and  she  wished  some  one  to  introduce  relig- 
ious conversation.  I  had  no  inclination  to  accept  this  in- 
vitation, and  I  accordingly^  made  my  excuses  ;  but  the  good 
lady  continued  to  press  me,  and  added,  I  expect  Miss  Neale 
will  be  of  the  part3\  Of  this  imposing  article  of  intelli- 
gence I  experienced  the  full  force  ;  but  I  endeavored  to 
disguise  my  emotions ;  and,  the  request  being  once  more 
repeated,  I  consented,  and  returned  home,  notwithstanding 
all  my  resolutions,  transported  with  the  prospect  of  once 
more  beholding  the  dear  object  of  my  admiration.     That  I 


LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY,  133 

was  now  become  a  real  lover,  there  could  be  no  doubt.  I 
was  earl}^  at  the  place  appointed,  and  my  enraptured  heart 
danced  with  joy  when  I  once  more  beheld  the  triumphant 
fair  one.  I  was  happy  to  observe  that  she  regarded  me  with 
marked  attention,  but  her  predilection  was  rather  for  the 
Christian  than  the  man.  I  was,  however,  beyond  expres- 
sion elated,  and  m}-  conversation  partook  of  the  elevation 
of  my  soul.  The  evening  was  nothing  ;  it  was  gone  ere  1 
was  sensible  it  had  well  commenced.  Eliza,  for  that  was 
her  fascinating  name,  arose  to*  take  leave.  I  was  greath' 
chagrined.  I  had  calculated  upon  attending  her  home  ;  but 
a  confidential  friend  had  been  sent  to  take  charge  of  her.  I 
ventured,  however,  to  express  a  hope  that  I  should  see  her 
at  Mrs.  Allen's,  a  friend  warmly  attached  to  us  both,  on 
the  following  Wednesday  evening.  She  modesth^  replied, 
she  would  endeavor  to  be  there ;  and  in  the  interim  I 
sought  to  learn  if  she  were  disengaged  ;  but  I  could  obtain 
no  satisfactory  information.  The  appointed  evening  was 
passed  most  delightfully,  at  Mrs.  Allen's.  I  had  the  felicit}' 
of  attending  the  3'oung  lad}'  home,  and  the  temerity  to  ask 
such  questions  as  extorted  an  acknowledgment  that  she 
was  not  engaged.  With  trembling  eagerness  1  then  ven- 
tured to  propose  myself  as  a  candidate  for  her  favor. 
*'  Alas  !  sir,"  she  replied,  "  yon  have  formed  too  high  an 
opinion  of  my  character.  I  trust  you  will  meet  a  person 
much  more  deserving  of  3'ou  than  I  can  pretend  to  be."  I 
re-urged  my  suit,  with  all  the  fervor  which  youth  and  an 
irrepressible  passion  could  furnish.  Her  answer  is  indeli- 
bly engraven  upon  the  tablets  of  m}^  memor}^  ''  You  and 
I,  sir,  profess  to  believe  in  an  overruling  Providence  ;  we 
have  both  access  to  the  throne  of  our  heavenly  Father,  Let 
us,  sir,  unbosom  ourselves  to  our  God.    I  shall,  I  do  assure 


134  LIFE    OP  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

you  ;  so,  I  am  persuaded,  will  3'ou ;  and  if,  after  we  have 
thus  done,  we  obtain  the  sanction  of  the  Most  High,  I  trust 
I  shall  be  resigned." 

We  had  now  reached  her  habitation,  the  threshold  of 
which  no  professed  follower  of  Whitefield  was  ever  allowed 
to  pass.  I  supplicated  for  permission  to  write  to  her  ;  and, 
in  the  full  confidence  of  Christian  amity,  she  acceded  to 
the  prayer  of  my  petition.  From  this  period,  no  week 
passed  during  which  we  did  not  exchange  letters  ;  and  the 
pages  we  filled  might  ha\*e  been  submitted  to  the  most 
rigid  inspection.  Mrs.  Allen  was  our  confidant,  and 
every  letter  which  passed  between  us  was  put  into  the 
hand  of  this  discreet  matron,  without  a  seal.  At  the  house 
of  this  lady  we  had  frequent  interviews,  but  never  without 
witnesses,  and  our  time  was  passed  in  singing  hymns  and 
in  devout  prayer.  I  now  believed  myself  the  happiest 
being  in  creation.  I  was  certain  of  possessing  a  most 
inestimable  treasure  ;  and  although  the  grandfather  of  my 
Eliza,  upon  whom  rested  her  whole  dependence,  never  saw 
me,  and  if  he  had,  never  would  have  sanctioned  our 
union,  we  cherished  that  hope  which  so  generally  proves 
fallacious.  The  dear  girl  requested  me  to  seek  and  obtain 
the  explicit  approbation  of  her  brother,  that  she  might  at 
least  insure  his  countenance  ;  and  upon  my  application 
to  him,  he  unhesitatingly  replied,  ''  1  consider,  dear  sir, 
mj^  sister  as  highly  honored  by  your  proposals."  — ''  But, 
sir,  have  we  3'our  consent?"  —  "  Undoubtedly,  sir,  and  with 
my  whole  heart."  This  was  suflScient,  and  I  was  com- 
pletely happy.  But,  alas  !  "  Never  did  the  course  of  true 
love  run  smooth."  We  were  on  the  verge  of  a  most  dis- 
tressing calamit3^  This  brother,  in  whom  we  had  reposed 
uuiiuiited  confidence,  became  my  inveterate  foe,  and,  writ- 


LIFE    OF  REV,    JOHN  MURRAY.  135 

ing  an  anon3'mous  letter  to  his  grandfather,  he  represented 
me  as  a  fortune-hunter,  who  was  seeknig  to  obtain  the 
heart  of  his  grand-daughter,  for  the  purpose  of  making  a 
prey  of  her  property !  This  letter  produced  the  desired 
effect.  The  old  gentleman  was  extremely  irritated,  and, 
sending  for  Eliza,  he  put  the  letter  into  her  hand,  and 
sternly  asked  her  if  she  had  entered  into  any  engagement 
with  a  person  by  the  name  of  Murray  ;  when,  receiving 
an  answer  in  the  affirmative,  he  gave  full  credit  to  all  the 
rest,  and,  being  a  man  of  violent  passions,  he  threatened 
her  with  the  loss  of  his  favor,  if  she  did  not  immediately 
promise  to  renounce  me  forever.  He  was  well  apprised, 
if  he  could  obtain  her  promise,  he  had  nothing  further  to 
apprehend.  The  firm,  self-collected  girl  implored  his  par- 
don if  she  did  not  yield  credence  to  the  slanders  contained 
in  the  despicable  scrawl  he  had  placed  in  her  hand.  She 
besought  him  to  see  me,  to  converse  with  me  ;  promising, 
that  if,  upon  a  personal  acquaintance,  he  continued  to  dis- 
approve, she  would  endeavor  to  bend  her  mind  to  an  ac- 
quiescence with  his  will.  Her  grandfather  was  inexorable. 
He  would  admit  no  conditions,  and  ultimately  assured 
the  3'oung  lady,  if  she  did  not  relinquish  every  thought  of 
me,  she  might  give  up  all  idea  of  ever  receiving  a  single 
penny  of  his  property.  He  granted  her  three  days  for  de- 
liberation, during  which  period  she  was  to  consider  herself 
a  prisoner.  Of  this  unexpected  event  1  speedily  gained 
intelligence,  and  my  soul  was  torn  by  apprehension.  To 
Eliza  I  could  have  no  access,  and  even  the  intercourse  by 
letter  was  suspended.  In  this  state  of  agonizing  suspense, 
I  remained,  until,  through  the  instrumentality  of  the 
chambermaid,  a  letter  was  brought  to  Mrs.  Allen  for  me ; 
which  letter,  while  it  gave  a  most  affecting  detail  of  her 


136  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

sufferings,  contained  the  fullest  assurance  of  her  unbroken 
faith  and  steadfastness.  She  recommended  it  to  me  to 
apply  to  the  same  Source  from  whence  she  herself  had  de- 
rived consolation,  —  to  the  Almighty  Father  of  our  spirits, 
who  held  in  his  hands  all  hearts  ;  and  she  added  that  no 
power  short  of  Omnipotence  should  ever  prevail  upon  her 
to  give  her  hand  unaccompanied  by  her  heart ;  and  that 
in  a  few  hours  she  should  be  so  circumstanced  as  to  prove 
the  sincerity  of  my  affection,  for  she  was  speedily  to  render 
her  final  answer  to  her  grandfather.  She  hoped  for  divine 
support  during  the  arduous  trial  to  which  she  was  called 
to  submit ;  and  she  most  earnestly  solicited  my  pra3'ers  in 
her  behalf.  A  second  letter  was  soon  handed  me,  giving 
an  account  of  the  second  interview.  ''  Well,  m}^  dear 
child,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "what  am  I  to  expect? 
Am  I  to  lose  my  daughter,  the  comfort  of  my  declining 
life?  Or  will  3'ou  have  compassion  upon  my  old  age,  and 
relinquish  this  interested,  designing  man?  "  —  "  If,  my  dear 
sir,  I  had  any  reason  for  supposing  the  person  of  whom 
you  speak,  such  as  you  believe  him,  the  relinquishment 
which  you  require  would  not  cost  an  effort ;  but,  sir,  Mr. 
Murray  is  an  honest  man.  He  has  a  sincere  affection  for 
me.  I  have  given  him  reason  to  hope,  and,  until  I  am  con- 
vinced he  is  unworthy  of  my  esteem,  I  cannot  consent  to 
treat  him  as  if  he  were."  Here  the  passions  of  the  old 
gentleman  began  to  rise,  when  the  dear  girl  besought  him 
to  be  calm,  assuring  him  it  was  neither  her  wish  nor  in- 
tention to  leave  him.  Nay,  more,  she  would  pledge  her 
word  never  to  leave  him,  while  she  could  have  the  felicity 
of  attending  upon  him,  if  he  would  not  insist  upon  her 
violating  her  faith,  tacitly  given  to  me.  But  this  would 
not  do.     She  must  abandon  her  lover  or  her  fortune.     And 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  137 

finding  her  determined,  he  arose  from  his  chair,  and 
seizing  his  will,  in  which  he  had  bequeathed  her  one 
thousand  pounds  sterling,  he  furiously  flung  it  into  the 
flames,  immediately  causing  another  will  to  be  written,  in 
which  he  gave  to  her  brother  the  portion  designed  for  her. 
And  thus  did  this  young  incendiary  obtain  the  object  for 
which  he  had  labored,  and  to  which  he  had  most  nefariously 
and  darkly  groped  his  way.  I  had  now  the  felicity  of 
learning  that  my  Eliza  had  a  stronger  value  for  me  than 
for  her  patrimony ;  and  she  observed  to  her  grandfather 
that  he  had  furnished  her  with  an  opportunity  of  proving 
the  sincerity  of  my  attachment.  "  If,"  said  she,  "  his 
views  are  such  as  you  have  been  taught  to  believe,  he  will 
shortly  relinquish  me,  and  thus  have  I,  most  opportunely, 
obtained  a  criterion."  Never  did  1  receive  a  piece  of  in- 
telligence productive  of  so  much  heartfelt  pleasure  as  the 
certainty  of  that  potent  prepossession  which  could  thus 
enable  her,  whom  I  esteemed  the  most  perfect  of  human 
beings,  to  surrender  up,  without  a  sigh,  the  gifts  of  fortune. 
Words  cannot  delineate  how  greatly  I  conceived  myself 
em-iched  by  this  blissful  assurance.  Still  I  met  the  brother 
of  Eliza  at  the  tabernacle,  and  occasionally  at  private 
societies,  and  still  he  wore  the  semblance  of  amity. 
Pi'evious  to  this  event,  the  elder  Mr.  Neale,  who  was 
always  my  friend,  had  become  the  head  of  a  family.  Dur- 
ing a  few  weeks  we  continued  in  that  condition,  when  mj 
invidious  calumniator  requested  me,  by  a  written  message, 
to  give  him  a  meeting  at  the  house  of  his  aunt,  a  lady  who 
resided  next  door  to  his  grandfather.  1  obeyed  the  sum- 
mons, when,  to  my  great  astonishment,  he  informed  me  it 
was  his  sister's  wish  I  would  think  of  her  no  more  ;  that 
there  were  many  young  ladies  with  whom  I  might  form 


138  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

ii  connection  abundantly  more  advantageous,  and  that 
for  herself  she  was  weary  of  contending  with  her  grand- 
father. During  the  whole  of  this  studied  harangue,  the 
torture  of  my  soul  was  scarcely  to  be  endured.  After  a 
most  distressing  pause,  I  tremblingly  interrogated,  "  Tell 
me,  sir,  has  Miss  Neale  really  empowered  you  to  act  in 
her  behalf  ?  "  —  "  If  3'ou  doubt  it,  here  is  a  letter,  written 
with  her  own  hand,  furnished  me  upon  a  presumption  that 
I  might  not  obtain  a  speedy  opportunity  of  seeing  you." 
And  he  put  the  letter  into  my  hand.  Mr.  Neale  knew  not 
that  I  was  in  possession  of  many  of  his  sister's  letters. 
He  knew  not  that  she  had  ever  written  to  me ;  if  he  had,  he 
wo\.ld  hardly  have  exhibited  this  scrawl  as  hers.  The 
anoaish  of  my  soul  was  no  more.  Yet  I  essayed  to  con- 
ceal my  emotions,  and  contented  myself  with  solemnly 
declaring  that  it  was  only  from  the  lips  of  Miss  Neale  I 
would  accept  my  dismission.  "  You  may,"  said  he,  '^  rest 
assured  you  will  never,  with  her  own  consent,  again  sec 
that  3'oung  lady."  Thus  spake,  thus  acted,  the  man 
whom,  the  very  next  morning,  I  met  at  Mr.  Whitefield's 
communion.  Leaving  Mr.  Neale,  I  returned  to  my  lodg- 
ings, sat  down  and  related  to  Eliza  the  whole  business, 
enclosing  the  letter  I  had  received  as  hers.  The  ensuinor 
day  gave  me  an  assurance,  under  her  own  hand,  that  the 
whole  procedure  was  unknown  to  her  ;  requesting  that  1 
would  remain  perfectly  easy  ;  that  I  would  keep  m}^  mind 
entirely  to  myself,  making  application  only  to  the  wonder- 
ful Counsellor,  and  resting  in  full  assurance  of  her  fidelity. 
This  was  enough,  and  m}'  full  soul  rejoiced  in  the  consola- 
tion thus  seasonably  afforded  me.  Mr.  Neale,  supposing 
his  arts  had  succeeded,  broughc  forward  proposals  in  favor 
of  a  gentleman  educated  by  his  grandfather,  who  had  long 


] 


LIFE    OF  EEV.   JOHN  MURRAY.  139 

loved  my  Eliza ;  but  who,  fearful  of  a  rejection,  had  not 
disclosed  his  passion.  Common  fame  soon  wafted  to  my 
ear  the  report  of  these  new  pretensions.  The  gentleman 
was,  in  every  respect,  my  superior,  and  he  was  declared 
a  successful  rival.  I  met  the  object  of  my  soul's  affection 
at  Mrs.  Allen's.  I  communicated  the  lacerating  intelli- 
gence I  had  received.  She  smiled,  tacitly  assured  me  I 
had  not  much  to  apprehend,  and,  according  to  custom, 
added,  "  Let  us  improve  our  opportunity  in  the  best  possible 
manner ;  let  us  devote  it  to  prayer  and  to  praise."  Thus 
revolved  days,  weeks,  and  months  ;  hoping  and  fearing, 
joying  and  sorrowing,  while  my  gentle,  my  amiable  friend, 
painfully  reciprocated  every  anxiety.  It  was  supposed  by 
her  connexions,  that  she  had  relinquished  her  purpose  in 
my  favor,  and  a  succession  of  advantageous  proposals  were 
brought  forward,  all  of  which  she  decisively  rejected. 
Once  a  week  she  was  permitted  to  visit,  when  she  never 
forgot  to  call  upon  Mrs.  Allen.  She  also  allowed  me  ta 
attend  her  every  Sunday  morning  before  day  during  the 
winter ;  and  I  considered  myself  supremely  happy  in  the 
privilege  of  presenting  myself  at  her  dwelling  on  those 
holy  days,  by  four  o'clock,  waiting  her  appearance.  And 
often  have  I  been  eyed  with  suspicion  by  the  watch,  and, 
in  foct,  I  was  once  taken  up.  Neither  storms  nor  tempests 
arrested  my  steps.  And  sometimes  I  have  tarried,  until 
the  dawning  da}^  compelled  me  to  retire,  when  I  was 
obliged  to  pass  on  in  melancholy  solitude  to  the  tabernacle. 
Yet,  between  love  and  devotion,  I  was  a  very  happy,  very 
disconsolate  being.  I  richly  enjo3^ed  the  pleasures  of  an- 
ticipation, which  are  generally  believed  to  exceed  posses- 
sion ;  3'et  my  own  experience  is  very  far  from  acknowledg- 
ing the  justice  of  this  hypothesis.     I   continued    in    thi& 


140  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

state  more  than  a  year,  snatching  enjoyments  when  I  could, 
and  placing  confidence  in  futurit}-.  In  the  course  of  this 
year,  my  insidious,  although  still  professing  friend  married 
a  lady  of  some  propert}^,  —  two  thousand  pounds  sterling  ; 
his  grandfather  adding  two  thousand  more,  one  of  which 
he  had  designed  as  provision  for  his  grand-daughter.  And, 
strange  as  it  may  appear,  this  angel  girl  uttered  not,  upon 
this  occasion,  a  single  reproach !  The  new  alliance 
strengthened  the  family  interest  against  me  ;  the  lad}^,  with- 
out knowing  me,  was  my  inveterate  foe.  It  was  about  this 
time  discovered  that  the  attachment  of  Eliza  remained 
in  full  force.  Her  grandfather  imagined  that  we  cherished 
hope  of  a  change  in  his  sentiments-,  or  that  we  should 
ultimately,  at  least  in  the  event  of  his  death,  come  into 
possession  of  some  part  of  his  property ;  and,  that  he 
might  effectually  crush  every  expectation,  he  so  managed 
as  to  put  his  most  valuable  possessions  out  of  his  own 
power.  The  period  at  length  arrived  which  completed 
the  minorit}^  of  my  tender  friend.  It  was  upon  the  eigh- 
teenth day  of  May,  and  this  day  the  elder  Mr.  Neale,  who, 
as  has  been  observed,  had  still  continued  my  fast  friend, 
determined  to  render  a  gala,  by  passing  it  with  me  in  the 
countr}^  With  the  early  dawn  we  commenced  our  little 
excursion,  when  we  beheld,  at  a  distance,  a  young  lady 
with  a  small  parcel  in  her  hand.  We  approached  her,  and, 
to  our  great  astonishment,  recognized  in  this  young  lady 
the  sister  of  my  friend,  the  precious  object  of  my  most 
ardent  love.  Upon  that  memorable  morning  she  had 
quitted  the  house  of  her  grandfather  and  all  she  possessed 
that  had  been  his,  leaving  upon  her  writing-desk  a  letter, 
wliich  lay  there,  until  the  famil}^  alarmed  at  her  not  making 
her  appearance  at  the  breakfast-table,  entered  her  apart- 


LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  141 

meiit,  whence  the  lovely  sufferer  had  so  recentl}^  flown. 
The  letter  furnished  an  explanation.  It  was  addressed  to 
her  grandfather,  and  it  informed  him  that  the  writer 
would  ever  acknowledge  unreturnable  obligations  for  the 
many  favors  he  had  conferred  upon  her ;  that,  if  she  could 
have  been  indulged  with  her  wish  of  living  with  him,  she 
should  have  been  content ;  but,  as  the  solicitations  to  enter 
into  matrimonial  engagements,  b}'  which  she  was  persecuted, 
were  unceasing,  she  was  convinced  she  should  not  be 
allowed  to  give  this  testimony  of  her  filial  attachment  : 
and,  being  now  of  age,  she  begged  leave  to  deliver  up  the 
ke3^s,  the  sums  of  money  with  which  she  had  been  en- 
trusted, and  whatever  else  had  pertained  to  her  grand- 
father ;  adding  an  assurance  that  she  should  no  more 
return.  Her  brother  William  immediately  conducted  her 
to  his  house,  whither  I  attended  them,  and  where,  by  her 
positive  orders,  we  were  obliged  to  leave  her.  Agreeably 
to  her  request,  we  proceeded  on  our  proposed  walk,  and  we 
learned  on  our  return  that  repeated  messengers  had  been 
despatched  b}'  her  grandfather,  soliciting  her  again  to  be- 
come an  inmate  in  his  house,  and  that  the  lady  of 
her  youngest  brother  had  been  commissioned  for  this  pur- 
pose ;  but  that  every  entreaty  had  proved  ineffectual.  For 
me,  fondly  flattering  myself  that  I  should  immediately 
exchange  my  vows  with  ni}^  amiable,  my  aflSanced  friend, 
at  the  altar  of  our  God,  I  was  superlatively  happy.  But 
again  my  high-wrought  expectations  proved  fallacious. 
This  strong-minded  woman  was  a  votar}'  of  propriety,  and 
she  was  determined  it  should  not  appear  that  she  had 
quitted  a  parent  for  the  purpose  of  throwing  herself  into 
the  arms  of  a  husband.  She  had  bid  adieu  to  the  paternal 
roof,  because  she  could  not,  while  there,  be  allowed  the  ex- 


142  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

ejcise  of  her  own  judgment;  because  measures  were 
t.'iking  to  compel  her  to  marry  a  man  she  could  never 
approve.  Her  eldest  brother,  her  beloved  William,  she 
was  confident  would  patronize  and  protect  her;  and  her 
needle  was  a  resource  from  which  she  could  always  derive 
a  competency. 


/ 


CHAPTER   IV. 


THE  AUTHOR    BECOMES  A  HAPPY    HUSBAND,  A  HAPPY    FATHER. 

HE    EMBRACES    "  THE    TRUTH    AS    IT    IS    IN    JESUS  ;  "    AND 

FROM      THIS      AND     OTHER      COMBINING     CAUSES     HE     IS     IN- 
VOLVED   IN    GREAT    DIFFICULTIES. DEATH    DEPRIVES    HIM 

OF    HIS     WEDDED     FRIEND,    AND     OF    HIS    INFANT    SON,    AND 
HE    IS    OVERTAKEN   BY    A    SERIES    OF    CALAMITIES. 


Hail  I  wedded  love  I  connubial  friendship,  hail  I 
Based  on  esteem,  if  love  supplies  the  gale, 
Borne  on  life's  stream,  we  cut  our  balmy  way, 
On  smooth  seas  wafted  to  the  realms  of  day. 


After  six  tedious  months  from  the  morning  of  my 
Eliza's  departure  from  the  mansion  of  her  grandfather 
had  completed  their  tardy  round,  yielding  to  my  unre- 
mitted importunities,  she  consented  to  accompany  me  to 
the  altar.  We  were  attended  by  William  and  his  lady, 
with  our  dear  Mrs.  Allen.  And  I  received  from  the  hands 
of  our  very  dear  brother  an  inestimable  treasure,  which 
constituted  me,  in  my  own  estimation,  the  happiest  of 
human  beings.  As  I  had  no  house  prepared,  I  gratefully 
accepted  the  kindness  of  this  beloved  brother,  who  invited 
us  to  tarry  with  him  until  we  could  accommodate  ourselves. 
And,  if  I  except  one  unhapp}'  misunderstanding  which 
took  place  soon  after  our  marriage,  no  wedded  pair  were 
ever  blessed  with  more  unbroken  felicity.  The  disagree- 
ment to  which  I  advert  would  not  have  continued  so  long 
but  for  the  instigations  of  our  brother  William,  who  in- 


144  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

sisted  upon  my  supporting,  what  he  called  my  dignit}^, 
which,  as  he  said,  could  only  be  maintained  by  the  submis- 
sion of  my  wife.  The  quarrel,  like  the  quarrels  of  most 
married  people,  originated  in  a  mere  trifle  ;  but  the  ques- 
tion was  who  should  make  the  first  conciliatory  advances. 
For  two  days  we  did  not  exchange  a  single  word,  Wil- 
liam still  imposingly  urging  me  never  to  surrender  m}^ 
prerogative.  At  length,  unable  to  endure  such  a  state  of 
wretchedness,  I  told  William  I  would  not  live  another 
hour  in  such  a  situation.  He  only  ridiculed  me  for  my 
folly,  and  bade  me  take  the  consequence.  I,  however,  en- 
tered the  chamber  of  my  wife,  and,  extending  my  hand, 
most  affectionately  said,  "  My  soul's  best  treasure,  let  us 
no  longer  continue  this  state  of  mournful  estrangement. 
For  the  world  I  would  not  thus  live  another  day.  Why, 
my  love,  our  sorrov/s  will  arise  from  a  thousand  sources ; 
let  us  not  render  each  other  miserable."  The  dear  girl 
burst  into  tears,  and,  throwing  her  faithful  arms  around 
me,  sobbed  upon  my  bosom,  with  difficulty  articulating, 
"  O  my  precious  friend !  you  have,  as  you  always  will 
have,  the  superiority.  God  forever  bless  m}^  faithful,  my 
condescending  husband."  From  this  moment  we  bade 
adieu  to  dissension  of  every  description,  successfully 
cultivating  that  harmony  of  disposition  and  augmenting 
confidence  which  cannot  fail  of  insuring  domestic  felicity. 
We  soon  removed  to  a  house  of  our  own  ;  and  there,  as  I 
believe,  enjoyed  as  much  of  happiness  as  ever  fell  to  the 
lot  of  humanit}^  Yet,  although  thus  satisfied  with  each 
other,  there  were  sources  of  inquietude  which  created  us 
some  distress.  I  had  heard  much  of  Mr.  Relly  ;  he  was  a 
conscientious  and  zealous  preacher  in  the  city  of  London. 
He  had,  through  many  revolving  years,  continued  faithful 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  145 

to  the  ministry  committed  to  him,  and  he  was  the  theme 
of  every  religious  sect.  He  appeared,  as  he  was  repre- 
sented to  me,  highly  erroneous ;  and  my  indignation 
against  him,  as  has  already  been  seen,  was  very  strong. 
I  had  frequently  been  solicited  to  hear  him,  mereW  that  I 
might  be  an  ear-witness  of  what  were  termed  his  blas- 
phemies; but  I  arrogantly  said  I  would  not  be  a  murderer 
of  time.  Thus  T  passed  on  for  a  number  of  3'ears,  hearing 
all  manner  of  evil  said  of  Mr.  Relly,  and  believing  all  I 
heard,  while  every  day  augmented  the  inveterate  hatred 
which  I  bore  the  man  and  his  adherents.  When  a  wor- 
shipping brother  or  sister  belonging  to  the  communion 
which  I  considered  as  honored  by  the  approbation  of 
Deity  was,  by  this  deceiver,  drawn  from  the  paths  of 
rectitude,  the  anguish  of  my  spirit  was  indescribable ; 
and  I  was  ready  to  say  the  secular  arm  ought  to  interpose 
to  prevent  the  perdition  of  souls.  I  recollect  one  instance 
in  particular  which  pierced  me  to  the  soul.  A  young  lady 
of  irreproachable  life,  remarkable  for  piety,  and  highly 
respected  by  the  tabernacle  congregation  and  church,  of 
which  I  was  a  devout  member,  had  been  ensnared.  To 
my  great  astonishment  she  had  been  induced  to  hear,  and, 
having  heard,  she  had  embraced  the  pernicious  errors  of 
this  detestable  babbler.  She  was  become  a  believer,  a 
firm  and  unwavering  believer  of  universal  redemption. 
Horrible  !  most  horrible  !  So  high  an  opinion  was  enter- 
tained of  my  talents,  having  myself  been  a  teacher  among 
the  Methodists,  and  such  was  my  standing  in  Mr.  White- 
field's  church,  that  I  was  deemed  adequate  to  reclaiming 
this  wanderer,  and  I  was  strongl}^  urged  to  the  pursuit. 
The  poor,  deluded  young  woman  was  abundantly  worthy 
our  most  arduous  efforts.  "  He  that  converteth  the  sinner 
10 


146  LIFE    OF  REV.  JOHN  MURRAY. 

from  the  error  of  his  way  shall  save  a  soul  from  death, 
and  shall  hide  a  multitude  of  sins."  Thus  1  thought,  thus 
I  said  ;  and,  swelled  with  a  high  idea  of  my  own  impor- 
tance, I  went,  accompanied  by  two  or  three  of  my  Christian 
brethren,  to  see,  to  converse  with,  and,  if  need  were,  to 
admonish  this  simple,  weak,  but,  as  we  heretofore  believed, 
meritorious  female.  Fully  persuaded  that  I  could  easil}' 
convince  her  of  her  errors,  I  entertained  no  doubt  respect- 
ing the  result  of  my  undertaking.  The  young  lady  re- 
ceived us  with  much  kindness  and  condescension,  while, 
as  I  glanced  my  eye  upon  her  fine  countenance  beaming 
with  intelligence,  mingling  pity  and  contempt  grew  in  my 
bosom.  After  the  first  ceremonies  we  sat  for  some  time 
silent.  At  length  I  drew  up  a  heavy  sigh,  and  uttered  a 
pathetic  sentiment  relative  to  the  deplorable  condition  of 
those  who  live  and  die  in  unbelief.  And  I  concluded  a 
violent  declamation,  by  pronouncing  with  great  earnestness^ 
"  '  He  that  believeth  not  shall  be  damned.' " 

"And  pray,  sir,"  said  the  young  lady,  with  great  sweet- 
ness, "  pray,  sir,  what  is  the  unbeliever  damned  for  not 
believing  ?  " 

"What  is  he  damned  for  not  believing?  Why^  he  h 
damned  for  not  believing.'' 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  I  asked  what  was  that  which  he  did 
not  believe  for  which  he  was  damned  ?  " 

"  Why,  for  not  believing  in  Jesus  Christ,  to  be  sure." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  unbelievers  are  damned  foi 
not  believing  there  was  such  a  person  as  Jesus  Christ?" 

"  No,  I  do  not ;  a  man  may  believe  there  was  such  » 
person,  and  y^t  be  damned." 

"  Wliat,  then,  sir,  must  he  believe  in  order  to  avoid 
damnation  ?  " 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX   MVRRAY.  147 

''  Why,  he  must  believe  that  Jesus  Christ  is  a  complete 
Saviour." 

'*TVell,  suppose  he  were  to  believe  that  Jesus  Christ  was 
the  complete  Saviour  of  others,  would  this  belief  save 
him?" 

"No,  he  must  believe  that  Christ  Jesus  is  his  complete 
Saviour.  Every  iudividual  must  believe  for  himself  that 
Jesus  Christ  is  his  complete  Saviour.'' 

"  Why.  5ir,  is  Jesus  Christ  the  Saviour  of  any  unbe- 
lievers f 

"  No,  madam." 

"  "Why,  then,  should  any  imbeliever  believe  that  Jesus 
Christ  is  his  Saviour  if  he  be  not  his  Saviour?" 

"I  say  he  is  not  the  Saviour  of  any  one  until  he  be- 
lieves." 

"  Then,  if  Jesus  be  not  the  Saviour  of  the  unbeliever 
until  he  believes,  the  unbeliever  is  called  upon  to  believe  a 
lie.  It  appears  to  me,  sir,  that  Jesus  is  the  complete 
Saviour  of  unbelievers ;  and  that  unbelievers  are  called 
upon  to  believe  the  truth ;  and  that  by  believing  they  are 
saved,  in  their  own  apprehension,  saved  from  all  those 
dreadful  fears  which  are  consequent  upon  a  state  of  con- 
scious condemnation." 

"  No,  madam  ;  you  are  dreadfully,  I  trust  not  fatally, 
misled.  Jesus  never  was,  never  will  be,  the  Saviour  of 
am'  unbeliever." 

"  Do  you  think  Jesus  is  your  Saviour,  sir  ?" 

"  I  hope  he  is." 

"  Were  you  always  a  believer,  sir?  " 

"  No,  madam." 

"  Then  yow  were  once  an  unbeliever  ;  that  is,  you  once 
believed  that  Jesus  Christ  was  not  your  Saviour.     Now,  as 


148  LIFE    OF   REV,    JOHN  MURRAY. 

you  say,  he  never  was^  nor  never  will  be,  the  Saviour  of 
any  unbeliever;  as  you  were  once  an  unbeliever^  he  never 
can  be  your  Saviour." 

"  He  never  was  my  Saviour  till  I  believed." 
''  Did  he  never  die  for  3^ou  till  j^ou  believed,  sir?  " 
Here  I  was  extremely  embarrassed,  and  most  devoutly 
wished  myself  out  of  her  habitation.  I  sighed  bitterly, 
expressed  deep  commiseration  for  those  souls  who  had 
nothing  but  head-knowledge ;  drew  out  my  watch,  discov- 
ered it  was  late;  and,  recollecting  an  engagement,  observed 
it  was  time  to  take  leave. 

I  was  extremely  mortified.  The  young  lady  observed 
my  confusion,  but  was  too  generous  to  pursue  her  triumph. 
I  arose  to  depart ;  the  company  arose  ;  she  urged  us  to 
tarr}^ ;  addressed  each  of  us  in  the  language  of  kindness. 
Her  countenance  seemed  to  wear  a  resemblance  of  the 
heaven  which  she  contemplated  It  was  stamped  by  benig- 
nity ;  and,  when  we  bade  her  adieu,  she  enriched  us  by  her 
good  wishes. 

I  suspected  that  my  religious  brethren  saw  she  had  the 
advantage  of  me  ;  and  I  felt  that  her  remarks  were  indeed 
unanswerable.  My  pride  was  hurt,  and  I  determined  to 
ascertain  the  exact  sentiments  of  my  associates  respecting 
this  interview.  "  Poor  soul,"  said  I,  ''  she  is  far  gone  in 
error."  —  "True,"  said  they;  "but  she  is,  notwithstand- 
ing, a  very  sensible  woman."  A}",  ay,  thought  I,  they  have 
assuredly  discovered  that  she  had  proved  too  mighty  for 
me.  "  Yes,"  said  I,  "  she  has  a  great  deal  of  7ieac?-knowl- 
edge  ;  but  yet  she  ma}'-  be  a  lost,  damned  soul."  —  "I  hope 
not,"  returned  one  of  my  friends;  "she  is  a  very  good 
young  woman."  I  saw,  and  it  was  with  extreme  chagrin, 
that  the  result  of  this  visit  had  depreciated  me  in  the  opin- 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  149 

ion  of  m}"  companions.  But  I  could  only  censure  and  con- 
demn, solemnly  observing,  it  was  better  not  to  converse 
with  any  of  those  apostates,  and  it  would  be  judicious  never 
to  associate  with  them  upon  an}^  occasion.  From  this 
period,  I  m3^self  carefully  avoided  every  Universalist,  and 
most  cordially  did  I  hate  them.  My  ear  was  open  to  the 
public  calumniator,  to  the  secret  whisperer,  and  I  yielded 
credence  to  every  scandalous  report,  however  improbable. 
My  informers  were  good  people.  I  had  no  doubt  of  their 
veracity  ;  and  I  believed  it  would  be  difficult  to  paint  Relly 
and  his  connections  in  colors  too  black.  How  severely  has 
the  law  of  retaliation  been  since  exercised  in  the  stabs 
which  have  been  aimed  at  my  own  reputation  !  Relly  was 
described  as  a  man  black  with  crimes ;  an  atrocious 
offender,  both  in  principle  and  practice.  He  had,  it  was 
said,  abused  and  deserted  an  amiable  wife ;  and  it  was 
added  that  he  retained  in  his  house  an  abandoned  woman  ; 
and  that  he  not  only  thus  conducted  himself,  but  publicly, 
and  most  nefariously,  taught  his  hearers  to  dare  the  laws 
of  their  country  and  their  God-  "  Hence,"  said  my  inform- 
ers, "  the  dissipated  and  unprincipled  of  every  class  flock 
to  his  church.  His  congregation  is  astonishingly  large  ;  the 
carriages  of  the  great  block  up  the  street  in  which  his 
meeting-house  stands,  and  he  is  the  idol  of  the  voluptuous 
of  every  description."  All  this  and  much  more  was  said, 
industriously  propagated,  and  credited  in  every  religious 
circle.  Denominations  at  variance  with  each  other  most 
cordially  agreed  in  thus  thinking,  and  thus  speaking,  of 
Relly,  of  his  preaching,  and  of  his  practice.  1  confess  I 
felt  a  strong  inclination  to  see  and  hear  this  monster,  once 
at  least ;  but  the  risk  was  dreadful !  I  could  not  gather 
courage  to  hazard  the  steadfastness  of  my  faith ;  and  for 


150  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN   MURRAY. 

many  years  I  persevered  in  my  resolution,  on  no  considera- 
tion to  contaminate  m}^  ear  by  the  sound  of  his  voice.  At 
length,  however,  I  was  prevailed  upon  to  enter  his  church; 
but  I  detested  the  sight  of  him  ;  and  my  mind,  prejudiced 
by  the  reports  to  which  I  had  listened  respecting  him,  was 
too  completely  filled  with  a  recollection  of  his  fancied 
atrocities,  to  permit  a  candid  attention  to  his  subject,  or 
his  mode  of  investigation.  I  wondered  much  at  his  impu- 
dence in  daring  to  speak  in  the  name  of  God  ;  and  I  felt 
assured  that  he  was  treasuring  up  unto  himself  wrath 
against  the  day  of  wrath.  I  looked  upon  this  deluded 
audience  with  alternate  pity  and  contempt,  and  I  thanked 
God  that  I  was  not  one  of  them.  I  rejoiced  when  I  escaped 
from  the  house,  and,  as  I  passed  home,  I  exclaimed,  almost 
audibly,  '*  Wh}^,  O  my  God,  was  I  not  left  in  this  deplora- 
ble, damnable  state,  —  given  up  like  this  poor,  unfortunate 
people,  to  believe  a  lie,  to  the  utter  perversion  of  m^^  soul  ?  " 
But  I  was  thus  furnished  with  another  proof  of  my  election, 
in  consequence  of  my  not  being  deceived  by  this  detestable 
deceiver ;  and,  of  course,  my  consolation  was  great. 

About  this  time  there  was  a  religious  society  established 
in  Cannon  Street,  in  an  independent  meeting-house,  for  the 
purpose  of  elucidating  difficult  passages  of  Scripture.  This 
society  chose  for  their  president  a  Mi'.  Mason,  who, 
although  not  a  clerical  gentleman,  was,  nevertheless,  of 
high  standing  in  the  religious  world.  Frequent  applica- 
tions were  made  to  him  in  the  character  of  a  physician  to 
the  sinking,  sorrowing,  sin-sick  soul.  His  figure  was  com- 
manding, and  well  calculated  to  fill  the  minds  of  young 
converts  with  religious  awe.  When  this  company  of  seri- 
ous inquirers  was  assembled,  the  president  addressed  the 
throne  of  grace  in  a  solemn  and  appropriate  praj-er,  and 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY,  151 

the  subject  for  the  evening  was  next  proposed.  Every 
member  of  the  society  was  indulged  with  the  privilege  of 
expressing  his  sentiments,  for  the  space  of  five  minutes. 
A  glass  was  upon  the  table,  which  ran  accurately  the  given 
term.  The  president  held  in  his  hand  a  small  ivory  ham- 
mer. When  the  speaker's  time  had  expired,  he  had  a  right 
to  give  him  notice  by  a  stroke  on  the  table,  round  which 
the  members  were  seated.  But,  if  he  approved  of  what 
was  delivered,  it  was  optional  with  him  to  extend  the  limits 
of  his  term.  When  the  question  had  gone  round  the  table 
the  president  summed  up  the  evidences,  gave  his  own 
judgment,  and,  having  proposed  the  question  for  the  next 
evening,  concluded  with  prayer. 

Upon  this  society  I  was  a  constant  attendant,  and  I  was 
frequently  gratified  by  the  indulgence  of  the  president  and 
the  implied  approbation  of  the  society.  It  was  on  the 
close  of  one  of  those  evenings,  which  were  to  me  very 
precious  opportunities,  that  the  president  took  me  by  the 
hand,  and  requested  me  to  accompany  him  into  the  vestry. 

"  Sit  down,  m}^  good  sir.  You  cannot  but  have  seen  that 
I  have  long  distinguished  5^ou  in  this  societ}^ ;  that  I  have 
been  pleased  with  your  observations  ;  and  I  have  given 
indisputable  evidence  that  both  my  reason  and  m}^  jiidg- 
ment  approved  your  remarks."  I  bowed  respectfully,  and 
endeavored  to  express  my  gratitude  in  a  manner  becoming 
an  occasion  so  truly  flattering. 

"  My  object,"  said  he,  "  in  seeking  to  engage  you  in  pri 
vate,  is  to  request  j^ou  would  take  home  with  you  a  pam 
phlet  I  have  written  against  Relly's  '  Union.'  I  have  long 
wondered  that  some  able  servant  of  our  Master  has  not 
taken  up  this  subject.  But,  as  m}^  superiors  are  silent,  I 
have  been  urged  by  a  sense  of  duty  to  make  a  stand,  and 


152  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

I  have  done  all  in  my  power  to  prevent  the  pernicious  ten- 
dency of  this  soul-destroying  book." 

Although,  at  this  period,  I  had  never  seen  Relly's 
"  Union,"  yet  my  heart  rejoiced  that  Mason,  this  great  and 
good  man,  had  undertaken  to  write  against  it,  and,  from 
the  abundance  of  my  heart,  my  mouth  overflowed  with 
thankfulness. 

"All  that  I  request  of  you,"  said  Mr.  Mason,  "is  to 
take  this  manuscript  home  with  you,  and  keep  it  till  our 
next  meeting.  Meet  me  in  this  vestry  a  little  before  the 
usual  time.  Read  it,  I  entreat  j^ou,  carefully,  and  favor 
me  with  your  unbiassed  sentiments."  I  was  elated  by  the 
honor  done  me,  and  I  evinced  much  astonishment  at  the 
confidence  reposed  in  me.  But  he  was  pleased  to  express 
a  high  opinion  of  my  judgment,  abilities,  and  goodness  of 
heart,  and  he  begged  leave  to  avail  himself  of  those  quali- 
ties with  which  his  fancy  had  invested  me. 

I  took  the  manuscript  home,  perused  it  carefuU}^,  and 
with  much  pleasure,  until  I  came  to  a  passage  at  which  I 
was  constrained  to  pause,  2>(^i'>\fu^^y  to  pause.  Mr.  Kelly 
has  said,  speaking  of  the  record  which  God  gave  of  his 
Son  :  "  This  life  is  in  his  /Son,  and  he  that  believeth  not  this 
record  maketh  God  a  liar.  From  whence,"  inferred  Mr. 
Rell\%  "  it  is  plain  that  God  hath  given  this  eternal  life 
in  the  Son  to  unbelievers,  as  fully  as  to  believers,  else  the 
unbeliever  could  not  b}^  his  unbelief  make  God  a  liar. 
"This,"  said  Mr.  Mason,  pwinm^  upon  the  author's  name, 
"  is  just  as  clear  as  that  this  writer  is  an  Irish  Bishop."  I 
was  grieved  to  observe  that  Mr.  Mason  could  say  no  more 
upon  a  subject  so  momentous.  Nor  could  I  forbear  allow- 
ing more  than  I  wished  to  allow  to  the  reasoning  of  Mr. 
Uelly.     Most  devoutly  did  I  lament  that  the  advantage  in 


LIFE    OF  REr.    JOHX  MURRAY.  153 

argument  did  not  rest  with  n\v  admired  friend,  Mason  ;  and 
I  was  especially  desirous  that  this  last  argument  should 
have  been  completely  confuted.  I  was  positive  that  God 
never  gave  eternal  life  to  any  unbeliever ;  and  yet  I  was  per- 
plexed to  decide  how,  if  God  had  not  given  life  to  unbe- 
lievers, they  could  possibly  7nake  God  a  liar,  by  believing 
that  he  had  not.  My  mind  was  incessantly  exercised  and 
greatly  embarrassed  upon  this  question.  What  is  it  to 
make  any  one  a  liar,  but  to  deny  the  truth  of  what  he  has 
said?  But  if  God  had  nowhere  said  he  had  given  life  to 
unbelievers,  how  could  the  unbeliever  make  God  a  liar? 
The  stronger  this  argument  seemed  in  favor  of  the  grace 
and  love  of  God,  the  more  distressed  and  unhappy  T 
became  ;  and  most  earnestl3^  did  I  wish  that  Mr.  Mason's 
pamphlet  might  contain  something  that  was  more  rational, 
more  scriptural,  than  a  mere  pun;  that  he  might  be  able 
to  adduce  proof  positive  that  the  gift  of  God,  which  is 
everlasting  life,  was  never  given  to  any  but  believers.  I  was 
indisputably  assured  that  I  myself  was  a  believer ;  and 
right  precious  did  I  hold  ray  exclusive  property  in  the  Son 
of  God. 

At  the  appointed  time  I  met  Mr.  Mason  in  the  vestry. 
*'  Well,  sir,  I  presume  you  have  read  my  manuscript?"  — 
"  I  have,  sir,  and  I  have  read  it  repeatedly."  —  "  Well,  sir, 
speak  freel}',  is  there  anything  in  the  manuscript  which  3^ou 
dislike?"  —  "  Wh}^  sir,  as  3'ou  are  so  good  as  to  indulge 
me  with  the  liberty  of  speaking,  I  will  venture  to  point  out 
one  passage  which  appears  to  me  not  sufficiently  clear. 
Pardon  me,  sir,  but  surely  argument,  especially  upon  religious 
subjects,  is  preferable  to  ridicule,  to  p>unning  upon  the  name 
of  an  author." — '"  And  where,  pray,  is  the  objectionable 
paragraph  to  which  you  advert?"     I  pointed  it  out ;   l)ut, 


154  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

OD  looking  in  his  face,  I  observed  his  countenance  fallen ; 
it  was  no  longer  toward  me.  Mr.  Mason  questioned  ray 
judgment,  and  never  afterward  honored  me  by  his  atten- 
tion. However,  I  still  believed  Mason  rights  and  Relly 
tvrong;  for  if  Relly  was  right,  the  conclusion  was  unavoid- 
able, all  men  must  finally  he  saved.  But  this  was  out  of 
the  question,  utterly  impossible.  All  religious  denomina- 
tions agreed  to  condemn  this  heresy,  to  consider  it  as  a 
damnable  doctrine  ;  and  what  every  religious  denomination 
united  to  condemn  must  be  false. 

Thus,  although  I  lost  the  favor  of  Mr.  Mason,  and  he 
published  his  pamphlet  precisely  as  it  stood  when  submitted 
to  m}'  perusal,  yet  my  reverential  regard  for  him  was  not 
diminished.  I  wished,  most  cordially  wished,  success  to 
his  book,  and  destruction  to  the  author  against  whom  it  was 
written. 

In  this  manner  some  months  rolled  over  my  head,  when, 
accompanying  my  wife  on  a  visit  to  her  aunt,  after  the 
usual  ceremonies,  I  repaired,  according  to  custom,  to  the 
bookcase,  and,  turning  over  many  books  and  pamphlets,  I 
at  length  opened  one  that  had  been  robbed  of  its  title- 
page  ;  but  in  running  it  over  I  came  to  the  very  argument 
which  had  excited  so  much  anxiety  in  my  bosom.  It  was 
the  first  moment  I  had  ever  seen  a  line  of  Mr.  Kelly's  writ- 
ing, except  in  Mr.  Mason's  pamphlet.  I  was  much  aston- 
ished, and,  turning  to  Mrs.  Murray,  I  informed  her  I  held 
Mr.  Kelly's  "  Union  "  in  my  hand.  I  asked  our  uncle  if  I 
might  put  it  in  my  pocket.  "  Surely,"  said  he  ;  "  and  keep 
it  there,  if  you  please  ;  I  never  read  books  of  divinity.  I 
know  not  what  the  pamphlet  is,  nor  do  I  wish  to  know." 
As  I  put  it  into  m}^  pocket,  my  mind  became  alarmed  and 
perturbed.      It   was    dangerous ;    it    was   tampering    vvith 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  155- 

poison  ;  it  was  like  taking  fire  into  my  bosom.  I  had  bet- 
ter throw  it  into  the  flames,  or  restore  it  to  the  bookcase. 
Such  was  the  conflict  in  my  bosom.  However,  in  the  full 
assurance  that  the  elect  were  safe,  and  that  although  they 
took  any  deadly  thing  it  should  not  hurt  them,  I  decided  to 
read  the  "  Union  ;  "  and,  having  thus  made  up  my  mind,  I 
experienced  a  degree  of  impatience  until  I  reached  home, 
when,  addressing  the  dear  companion  of  my  3^outh,  I  said, 
"  I  have,  my  dear,  judged  and  condemned  before  I  have 
heard  ;  but  I  have  now  an  opportunit}'  given  me  for  delib- 
erate investigation."  —  "  But,"  returned  Mrs.  Murray,  "  are 
we  sufficient  of  ourselves?"  —  "  No,  my  love,  certainly  we 
are  not ;  but  God,  all-gracious,  hath  said,  '  If  any  lack 
wisdom,  let  them  ask  of  God,  who  giveth  liberall}-  and 
upbraideth  not.*  M3'  heart  is  exercised  by  fearful  appre- 
hensions. This  moment  I  dread  to  read,  the  next  I  am 
anxious  to  hear  what  the  author  can  say.  We  will,  there- 
fore,  lay  this  book  before  our  God.  There  is,  my  love,  a 
God,  who  is  not  far  from  every  one  of  us.  We  are  directed 
to  make  our  requests  known  unto  him  for  all  things,  by 
supplication  and  pra3^er.  God  hath  never  3'et  said  to  any, 
'  Seek  3'e  my  face  in  vain.'  We  will  then  pray  for  his  direc- 
tion and  counsel ;  and  we  ma}^  rest  in  the  assurance  of 
obtaining  both."  Accordingly  we  entered  our  closet,  and 
both  of  us  —  for  we  were  both  equally  interested  —  pros- 
trated ourselves  before  God  with  pi'a3'ers  and  tears,  beseech- 
ing him,  the  God  of  mercy,  to  look  with  pity  on  us.  We 
wex'e  on  the  point  of  attending  to  doctrines  of  which  we 
were  not,  we  could  not,  be  judges,  and  we  earnestl3"  suppli- 
cated him  to  lead  us  into  all  truth.  If  the  volume  before 
us  contained  truth,  we  entreated  him  to  show  it  to  us,  and 
to  increase  our  faith.     If,  on  the  other  hand,  it  contained 


156  LIFE    OF  REV.    JO  FIN  MURRAY. 

falsehood,  we  beseeched  God  to  make  it  manifest,  that  we 
might  not  be  deceived.  No  poor  criminal  ever  prayed  for 
life,  when  under  sentence  of  death,  with  greater  fervor  of 
devotion,  than  did  my  laboring  soul  upon  this  occasion 
supplicate  for  the  light  of  life  to  direct  my  erring  steps. 

After  thus  weeping  and  thus  supplicating,  we  opened  the 
Bible  and  began  to  read  this  book,  looking  into  the  Bible 
for  the  passages  to  which  the  writer  referred.  We  were 
astonished  and  delighted  at  the  beaut}''  of  the  Scriptures, 
thus  exhibited.  It  seemed  as  if  every  sentence  was  an  apple 
of  gold  in  a  picture  of  silver ;  and  still,  as  we  proceeded, 
the  wonder  was  that  so  much  divine  truth  should  be  spoken 
by  so  heinous  a  transgressor ;  and  this  consideration 
seemed  suggested  as  a  reason  why  I  should  not  continue 
reading.  Can  anything  good  proceed  from  such  a  charac- 
ter? Would  not  truth  have  been  revealed  to  men  eminent 
for  virtue?  How  is  it  possible  discoveries  so  important 
should  never  until  now  have  been  made,  and  now 'only  b}' 
this  man?  Yet  I  considered,  GocVs  ways  were  in  the  great 
deep;  he  would  send  by  whom  he  would  send  ;  choosing  the 
weak  and  base  things  to  confound  the  mighty  and  the  strong^ 
that  no  flesh  should  glory  in  his  presence.  And,  as  my 
lovel}'  wife  justly  observed,  I  was  not  sure  all  I  heard  of 
Mr.  Relly  was  true  ;  that  our  Saviour  had  said  to  his  dis- 
€iples,  "  They  shall  sa}^  all  manner  of  evil  o^  you.  falsely  '/' 
and  the  present  instance  may  be  a  case  in  point.  ''  You 
have  no  personal  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Relly,"  said  she  ; 
"  nor  do  you  know  that  any  of  those  from  whom  you  have 
received  his  character  are  better  informed  than  yourself. 
I  think  it  doth  not  hecoyne  us  to  speak  or  believe  evil  of  any 
man  luithout  the  strongest  possible  proofs  All  this  was 
rational.      I  felt  its  full  force,  and  blushed  for   ra}^  own 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  157 

credulit3\  I  proceeded  to  read.  Tlie  ''  Union  "  introduced 
me  to  many  passages  of  Scripture  which  had  before  escaped 
m}^  observation.  A  student  as  I  had  been  of  the  Scrip- 
tures from  the  first  dawn  of  my  reason,  I  could  not  but 
wonder  at  mj^self.  I  turned  to  Mr.  Mason's  book,  and  I 
discovered  want  of  candor,  and  a  kind  of  duplicity  which 
had  not  before  met  m}'  view,  and  which  perhaps  would 
never  have  caught  my  attention  had  I  not  read  the  "  Union." 
I  saw  the  grand  object  untouched,  while  Rell}^  had  clearl}' 
pointed  out  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel.  Yet  there  were 
many  passages  that  I  could  not  understand,  and  I  felt  ra}'- 
self  distressing!}'  embarrassed.  One  moment  I  wished  from 
m}^  soul  I  had  never  seen  the  "  Union  ;  "  and  the  next  my 
heart  was  enlarged  and  lifted  up  by  considerations  which 
swelled  my  bosom  to  ecstasy.  This  was  the  situation 
of  my  mind  during  mau}^  succeeding  months,  and  a  large 
proportion  of  my  time  was  passed  in  reading  and  studying 
the  Scriptures  and  in  prayer.  My  understanding  was 
pressing  on  to  new  attainments,  and  the  prospect  bright- 
ened before  me.  I  was  greatl}'  attached  to  m\^  minister, 
Mr.  Hitchins  ;  he  was  eminent  in  his  line,  and  a  most  pleas- 
ing preacher.  Mrs.  Murray  was  in  the  habit  of  taking 
down  his  sermons  in  short  hand.  We  were  delighted  with 
the  man,  and  accustomed  to  consider  him  a  genuine  gospel 
preacher.  It  happened  that  IMr.  Hitchins  took  a  journe}^ 
into  the  country,  and  was  absent  on  the  Sabbath  da}'. 
"  Come,  my  dear,"  said  I,  "  our  minister  is  out  of  town  ; 
let  us  avail  ourselves  of  the  opportunity,  and  hear  the 
writer  of  the  '  Union.'  This  is  a  privilege  which  few  who 
read  books  can  have  ;  as  authors  aregenerall}-  numbered  with 
the  dead  before  their  labors  are  submitted  to  the  public 
eye."     Her  consent  was  3'ielded  to  my  solicitations  ;   but 


158  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

we  were  terrified  as  we  passed  along,  in  the  fear  of  meeting 
some  of  our  religious  brethren.  Happil}^,  however,  we 
reached  the  meeting-house  without  encountering  any  one 
to  whom  we  were  known. 

Mr.  Relly  had  changed  his  place  of  worship,  and  we 
were  astonished  to  observe  a  striking  proof  of  the  falsehood 
of  those  reports  which  had  reached  us.  No  coaches  thronged 
the  street  nor  surrounded  the  door  of  this  meeting-iiouse  ; 
there  was  no  vestige  of  grandeur  either  within  or  without. 
The  house  had  formerly  been  occupied  by  Quakers.  There 
were  no  seats  save  a  few  benches  ;  and  the  pulpit  was 
framed  of  a  few  rough  boards,  over  which  no  plane  had 
ever  passed.  The  audience  corresponded  with  the  house. 
They  did  not  appear  very  religious  ;  tliat  is,  they  were  not 
melancholy  ;  and  I  therefore  suspected  they  had  not  much 
piety.  I  attended  to  everything.  The  hymn  was  good, 
the  prayer  excellent,  and  I  was  astonished  to  witness  in  so 
bad  a  man  so  much  apparent  devotion  ;  for  still,  I  must 
confess,  the  prejudices  I  had  received  from  my  religious 
friends  were  prevalent  in  my  mind.  Mr.  Relly  gave  out 
his  text :  "  Either  make  the  tree  good  and  its  fruit  good,  or  the 
tree  corrupt  and  the  fruit  corrupt ;  for  every  tree  is  known  by 
its  fruit ;  a  good  tree  cannot  bring  forth  corrupt  fruit, 
neither  can  a  corrupt  tree  bring  forth  good  fruit."  I  was 
immeasurably  surprised.  What,  thought  I,  has  this  man 
to  do  with  a  passage  so  calculated  to  condemn  himself  ? 
But,  as  he  proceeded,  every  faculty  of  my  soul  was  power- 
fully seized  and  captivated,  and  I  was  perfectly  amazed, 
while  he  explained  wlio  we  were  to  understand  by  the 
good^  and  wlio  by  the  had  trees.  He  proved,  beyond  con- 
tradiction, that  a  good  tree  could  not  bring  forth  any  corrupt 
fruity  but  there  was  no  man  who  lived  and  sinned  not.    All 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  159 

mankind  had  corrupted  themselves  ;  there  were  none  there- 
fore good;  no^  not  one-. 

No  mere  man,  since  the  fall,  has  been  able  to  keep  the 
commandments  of  God  ;  but  daily  doth  break  them,  in 
thought,  in  ivord,  in  deed.  There  was,  however  one  good 
^?'ee,  Jesus.  He,  indeed,  stands  as  the  apple-tree  among 
the  trees  of  the  wood.  He  is  that  good  tree,  which  cannot 
bring  forth  corrupt  fruit.  Under  his  shadow  the  believer 
reposeth  ;  the  fruit  of  this  tree  is  sweet  to  his  taste  ;  and  the 
matter  of  his  theme  constantly  is,  "  Whom  have  I  in  heaven 
but  thee,  and  there  is  none  upon  earth  that  I  desire  beside 
thee."  I  was  constrained  to  believe  that  I  had  never,  until 
this  moment,  heard  the  Redeemer  preached  ;  and,  as  I  said, 
I  attended  with  my  whole  soul.  I  was  humbled  ;  I  was 
confounded  ;  I  saw  clearly  that  I  had  been  all  my  life  ex- 
pecting good  fruit  from  corrupt  trees,  grapes  on  thorns,  and 
Jigs  on  thistles.  I  suspected  myself;  I  had  lost  m}^  stand- 
ing ;  I  was  unsettled,  perturbed,  and  wretched.  A  few 
individuals  whom  I  had  known  at  Mr.  Whitefield's  taber- 
nacle were  among  Mr.  Relly's  audience,  and  I  heard  them 
say,  as  they  passed  out  of  the  aisle  of  the  church,  "  I  wonder 
how  the  Pharisees  would  like  our  preacher  ?  "  I  wished  to 
hear  Mrs.  Murray  speak  upon  the  subject ;  but  we  passed 
on,  wrapped  in  contemplation.  At  length,  I  broke  silence  : 
"Well,  my  dear,  what  are  your  sentiments?" — "  Na}^, 
my  dear,  what  is  your  opinion  ?  "  —  "  I  never  heard  truth,  — 
unadulterated  truth  before.  So  sure  as  there  is  a  God  in 
heaven,  if  the  Scriptures  be  the  word  of  God,  the  testimony 
this  day  delivered  is  the  truth  of  God.  Ii  is  the  first  con- 
sistent sermon  I  have  ever  heard."  I  reached  home  full  of 
this  sermon  ;  took  up  the  •'  Union,"  read  it  with  new  pleas- 
ure ;  attended  again  and  again   upon  Mr.  Relly,  and  was 


160  LIFE    OF  REV,  JOHN  MURRAY. 

more  and  more  astonished.  Mr.  Hitchins  returned  home, 
but,  as  I  conceived,  \Q\y  much  changed  ;  more  inconsistent 
than  ever.  ''  No,  my  dear,"  said  my  wife,  ^'  it  is  3'OU  who 
are  changed.  He  preaches,  as  I  can  prove  b}'  my  notes, 
precisely  the  same  ;  yet  it  is  truly  surprising  that  his  multi- 
plied contradictions  have  until  now  passed  without  our 
observation."  —  "Well,"  said  I,  "what  are  we  to  do? 
Can  we  in  future  bear  such  inconsistencies,  now  that  we 
are  better  informed?  Suppose  we  keep  our  seats  as  usual ; 
attending,  however,  one-half  of  every  Sabbath,  to  the 
preacher  of  Christ  Jesus?  "  On  this  we  immediatel}^  deter- 
mined ;  and,  by  this  expedient,  we  imagined  we  might  be 
gratified  b}^  hearing  the  truth,  without  running  the  risk  of 
losing  our  reputation  ;  for  we  well  knew  that,  as  professed 
adherents  of  Mr.  Rell}',  we  could  no  longer  preserve  that 
spotless  fame  ive  delighted  to  cherish. 

I  now  commenced  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures  with 
augmented  diligence.  The  Bible  was  indeed  a  new  book 
to  me  ;  the  veil  was  taken  from  ray  heart,  and  the  word  of 
my  God  became  right  precious  to  my  soul.  Many  Scrip- 
tures that  I  had  not  known  forcibly  pressed  upon  my 
observation  ;  and  many  that  until  now  I  had  not  suffered 
mj'self  to  believe.  Still  the  doctrine  of  election  distressed 
me.  Unfortunatel}',  I  had  connected  this  doctrine  of  e/ec^io?i 
with  the  doctrine  of  final  reprobation  ;  not  considering  that, 
although  the,  first  was  indubitably  a  Scripture  doctrine,  the 
last  ivas  not  to  be  found  in,  nor  could  be  supported  by,  revela- 
tion. I  determined  to  call  upon  and  converse  with  Mr. 
Hitchins  on  this  important  subject.  I  found  him  in  his 
study,  encompassed  about  with  the  writings  of  great  men. 
'*  I  wait  upon  you,  sir,  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  help. 
The  Arminians  show  me  many  Scriptures  which  proclaim 


i 


LIFE    OF  REV.   JOHN  MURRAY,  161 

the  universality  of  the  atonement.  I  cannot  answer  them. 
What,  ni}^  dear  sir,  shall  I  do?"  —  "  Wh}',  sir,  the  doc- 
trines of  election  and  reprobation  are  doctrines  we  are 
bound  to  believe  as  articles  of  our  faith  ;  but  I  can  say  with 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Hervej^,  I  never  wish  to  think  of  them  except 
upon  m}'  knees.  I  never  heard  any  one  undertake  to  expUiin 
them,  who  did  not  still  further  embarrass  the  subject.  One 
observation  is,  however,  conclusive,  and  it  never  fails  effec- 
tually to  silence  the  Arminian :  that  if,  as  they  affirm, 
Christ  Jesus  died  for  all  men,  then  assuredly  all  men  must 
he  saved;  for  no  one  can  he  eternally  lost  for  whom  the  Re- 
deemer shed  his  precious  hlood;  such  an  event  is  impossible. 
Now,  as  the  Arminians  will  not  admit  a  possibility  that  all 
will  finally  be  saved,  the}^  are  thus  easily  confounded." 
This,  I  thought,  was  very  good ;  it  was  clear  as  any  testi- 
mony in  divine  revelation,  that  Christ  Jesus  died  for  all,  for 
the  sins  of  the  whole  world,  for  every  man,  etc.  ;  and  even 
Mr.  Hitchins  had  declared,  that  every  one  for  idiom  Christ 
died  must  fincdly  he  saved.  This  I  took  home  with  me  to 
m}'  wife.  She  saw  the  truth,  that  we  were  so  well  prepared 
to  embrace,  manifested  even  b}^  the  testimou}-  of  its  ene- 
mies, and  we  were  inexpressibly  anxious  to  hear  and  to 
understand.  We  now  attended  public  worship,  not  onl}^  as 
a  duty,  conceiving  that  we  thus  increased  a  fund  of  right- 
eousness, upon  which  we  were  to  draw  in  every  exigence, 
but  it  became  our  pleasure,  our  consolation,  and  our  highest 
enjoyment.  We  began  to  feed  upon  the  truth  as  it  is  in 
Jesus,  and  every  discovery  we  made  filled  us  with  unutter- 
able transport.  I  regarded  my  friends  with  increasing  affec- 
tion, and  I  conceived,  if  I  had  an  opportunity  of  conversing 
u'ith  the  whole  world,  the  whole  world  would  be  convinced. 
11 


162  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAT. 

It  might  truly  have  been  said,  that  we  had  a  taste  of  heaven 
below. 

It  was  soon  whispered  in  the  tabernacle,  that  I  had  fre- 
quentlj^  been  seen  going  to  and  coming  from  Kelly's  meet- 
ing !  This  alarmed  man}-,  and  one  dear  friend  conversed 
with  me  in  private  upon  the  subject,  heard  what,  from  the 
abundance  of  my  heart,  my  mouth  was  constrained  to  utter, 
smiled,  pitied  me,  and  begged  I  would  not  be  too  commu- 
nicative, lest  the  business  should  be  brought  before  the 
society,  and  excommunication  might  follow.  I  thanked 
him  for  his  caution  ;  but  as  I  had  conversed  only  with  him^  I 
had  hazarded  nothing.  In  a  short  time  I  was  cited  to  ap- 
pear before  the  society  worshipping  in  Mr.  Whitefield's 
tabernacle.  I  obeyed  the  summons,  and  found  myself  in 
the  midst  of  a  very  gloomy  company,  all  seemingly  in  great 
distress.  They  sighed  very  bitterly,  and  at  last  gave  me  to 
understand,  that  the3^  had  heard  I  had  become  an  attendant 
upon  that  monster,  Relly,  and  the}'  wished  to  know  if  their 
information  was  correct.  I  requested  I  might  be  told  from 
whom  they  had  their  intelligence  ;  and  they  were  evidently 
embarrassed  by  my  question.  Still,  however,  I  insisted 
upon  being  confronted  with  my  accuser,  and  the^^  at  length 
consented  to  summon  him  ;  but  I  was  nearly  petrified  when 
I  learned  it  was  the  identical  friend  who  had  ^jrivately  con- 
versed with  me,  and  ivho  had  privately  cautioned  me,  that  had 
lodged  the  information  against  me  !  Upon  this  friend  I  had 
called,  in  my  way  to  the  tabernacle,  confiding  to  him  my 
situation.  He  said  he  had  feared  the  event;  he  pitied  me 
and  prayed  with  me.  But  he  did  not  calculate  upon  being 
confronted  with  me,  and  his  confusion  was  too  great  to  suffer 
his  attendance.  It  was  then  referred  to  me :  "  Was  it  a 
fact,  I  had  attended  upon  Relly?"  I  had.     "  Did  I  believe 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURE  AY.  163 

what  I  had  heard?  "  I  answered  that  I  did  ;  and  m}^  trial 
commenced.  They  could  not  prove  I  had  violated  those 
articles  to  which  I  had  subscribed.  I  had,  in  no  point  of 
view,  infringed  the  contract  by  which  I  was  bound.  But 
they  apprehended,  if  I  continued  to  approbate  Relly  b)^  my 
occasional  attendance  on  his  ministry,  m}'  example  would 
become  contagious  ;  except,  therefore,  I  would  give  them 
my  word  that  I  would  wholly'  abandon  this  pernicious  prac- 
tice, they  must,  however  unwilling^,  pronounce  upon  me 
the  sentence  of  excommunication.  I  refused  to  bind  my- 
self by  any  promise.  I  assured  them  I  would  continue  to 
hear  and  to  judge  for  myself;  and  that  I  held  it  m}^  dut}^ 
to  receive  the  truth  of  God  wherever  it  might  be  manifested. 
"But  Rell}^  holds  the  truth  in  unrighteousness." — "  I  have 
nothing  to  do  with  his  unrighteousness  ;  m}^  own  conduct 
is  not  more  reprehensible  than  heretofore."  The}^  granted 
this  ;  but  the  force  of  example  was  frequently  irresistible, 
and  if  I  were  permitted  to  follow,  uncensured,  my  own  in- 
clination, others  might  claim  the  same  indulgence,  to  the 
utter  perversion  of  their  souls.  It  was  then  conceded  in 
my  favor,  that,  if  I  would  confine  my  sentiments  to  my 
own  bosom,  the}'  would  continue  me  a  member  of  their 
communion.  I  refused  to  accede  to  this  proposal.  I  would 
not  be  under  an  obligation  to  remain  silent.  I  must,  so 
often  as  opportunity  might  present,  consider  myself  as  called 
upon  to  advocate  truth.  The  question  was  then  put :  Should 
I  be  considered  a  member  of  the  society  upon  my  own  terms  ? 
And  it  was  lost  by  only  three  voices. 

It  was  one  in  the  morning,  when  I  returned  home  to  m}' 
poor,  disconsolate  wife,  who  was  waiting  for  me,  and  when  I 
entered  her  apartment  my  spirits  were  so  sunk,  that,  throw- 
ing myself  into  a  chair,  I  burst  into  tears.     But  the  sweet 


164  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN   MURRAY. 

soother  of  my  every  woe  hastened  to  communicate  that 
consolation  she  was  so  eminently  qualified  to  bestow. 
"  Now,"  said  she,  ''  for  tl\e  j^rs^  time^  you  know  what  it  is 
to  suffer  for  Christ's  sake  ;  and  you  must  arm  yourself  with 
fortitude  to  bear  what  the  adherents  of  Mr.  Relly  must 
always  bear.  Let  us  offer  up  praise  and  thanksgiving 
that  it  is  no  worse.  Fear  not  those  who  can  only  kill  the 
body.  These,  however,  have  not  power  to  kill  the  body. 
It  is  true,  they  can  do  more  ;  they  can  murder  our  good 
name,  which  is  rather  to  be  chosen  than  life  itself.  But  let 
us  not  fear ;  our  God  will  be  with  us,  he  will  preserve  and 
protect  us."  Our  hearts,  however,  were  very  full,  and  with 
great  devotion  we  wept  and  praj'ed  together. 

About  this  time,  the  grandfather  of  my  Eliza  sent  for  her 
to  visit  him  at  his  country-seat,  ten  miles  from  London. 
This  was  highly  gratifjing,  and  abundantly  more  so,  as  I 
also  was  included  in  the  invitation.  After  seeing  and  con- 
versing with  me,  he  sincerel}^  lamented  that  he  had  been  so 
far  duped  b}'  the  artful  and  designing,  as  to  put  the  dispo- 
sition of  the  greater  part  of  his  property,  at  his  decease, 
entirely  out  of  his  ow^n  power  ;  but  what  he  could  do  he 
most  cheerfully  did.  Yet  even  here  we  were  pursued  by 
disappointment.  He  requested  me  to  procure  him  a  capa- 
ble, sober  domestic  ;  and  I  engaged  a  woman,  who,  as  I  be- 
lieved, answered  his  description ;  but,  proving  an  artful 
huss}^  she  gradually  obtained  over  the  mind  of  the  old 
gentleman  an  astonishing  influence,  that  resulted  in  a  mar- 
riage, which  effectually  prevented  his  family  connexions 
from  ever  again  visiting  him  !  Thus  were  our  new-born 
expectations,  from  a  reconciled  parent,  levelled  with  the 
dust.  A  series  of  calamities  succeeded  ;  those  whom  I  had 
esteemed  my  best  and  dearest  friends  proved  my  most  in- 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  165 

veterate  foes,  and,  finding  it  impossible  to  reclaim  us  from 
wliat  they  conceived  the  paths  of  error,  persecuted  us  with 
unceasing  virulence.  Presents^  bestowed  in  the  da}^  of  con- 
fidence, as  tokens  of  affection,  were  claimed  as  legal  debts ; 
and  as  the  law  does  not  allow  presents,  I  was  arrested  for 
the  amount,  betrayed  by  m}^  religious  friends  into  the 
hands  of  bailiff's,  at  a  time  when,  had  the  promised  lenity 
been  exercised,  I  could  have  paid  to  the  utmost  farthing. 
Thus  Heaven  thought  proper  to  keep  us  low  ;  but  our  faith 
increased,  and  we  cherished  that  hope  which  maketh  not 
ashamed  ;  and,  even  while  struggling  with  diflSculties,  we 
enjoyed  a  heaven  upon  earth.  Gradually  I  surmounted  the 
greater  part  of  my  diflSculties.  At  the  house  of  our  brother 
William  I  had  an  interview  with  our  once  obdurate  3'ounger 
brother ;  he  seemed  penetrated  with  sorrow  for  our  long 
continued  estrangement ;  he  Imng  upon  m}^  neck,  wept  bit- 
terly, and  expressed  a  fear  that  I  could  never  forgive  him. 
I,  also,  shed  many  tears,  and,  extending  to  him  the  hand  of 
amity,  clasped  him  to  my  bosom  with  a  most  cordial  em- 
brace. This  was  a  most  pleasant  circumstance  to  m}^  be- 
loved Eliza.  All  now  seemed  delightful.  We  had  a  sweet 
little  retirement  in  a  rural  part  of  the  cit3\  We  wanted 
but  little,  and  our  wants  were  all  supplied  ;  and  perhaps  we 
enjoyed  as  much  as  human  nature  can  enjoy.  One  dear 
pledge  of  love,  a  son,  whom  my  wife  regarded  as  the  image 
of  his  father,  completed  our  felicit3^  But,  alas !  this  \>oy 
was  lent  us  no  more  than  one  short  year  !  He  expired  in  the 
arms  of  his  agonized  mother,  whose  health,  from  that  fatal 
moment,  began  to  decline.  I  was  be3'ond  expression  terri- 
fied. Physicians  recommended  the  countr}^ ;  but  m}'  busi- 
ness confined  me  in  London,  and  my  circumstances  would 
not  admit  of  my  renting  two  houses.     I  took  lodgings  at  a 


166  LIFE   OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

small  distance  from  town,  returning  m^'self  every  day  to 
London.  The  disorder  advanced  with  terrific  strides.  My 
soul  was  tortured.  Every  time  I  approached  her  chamber, 
even  the  sigh  which  proclaimed  she  still  lived  administered 
a  melancholy  relief.  This  was  indeed  a  time  of  sorrow  and 
distress  beyond  what  I  had  ever  before  known.  I  have 
been  astonished  how  I  existed  through  such  scenes.  Sure- 
ly, in  every  time  of  trouble,  God  is  a  very  present  help. 
I  was  obliged  to  remove  the  dear  creature,  during  her  re- 
duced situation,  the  house  in  which  I  had  taken  lodgings 
being  sold  ;  but  I  obtained  for  her  a  situation  about  four 
miles  from  town.  The  scenes  around  her  new  lodgings 
were  charming.  She  seemed  pleased,  and  I  was  delighted. 
For  a  few  days  we  believed  her  better,  and  again  I  expe- 
rienced all  the  rapture  of  hope.  My  dilhculties,  however, 
were  many.  I  was  necessitated  to  pass  ra}^  days  in  Lon- 
don. Could  I  have  continued  with  her,  it  would  have  been 
some  relief.  But  as  my  physician  gave  me  no  hope,  when 
I  parted  from  her  in  the  morning,  I  was  frequently  terrified 
in  the  dread  of  meeting  death  on  my  return.  Often,  for  my 
sake,  did  this  sweet  angel  struggle  to  appear  relieved  ;  but, 
alas  !  I  could  discern  it  was  a  struggle,  and  my  anguish 
became  still  more  poignant.  To  add  to  my  distress,  pov- 
erty came  in  like  a  flood.  I  had  ni}'  house  in  town,  a  ser- 
vant there  ;  the  doctor,  the  apothecary,  the  nurse,  the  lodg- 
ings in  the  country,  —  everything  to  provide  ;  daily  passing 
and  repassing.  Truly  my  heart  was  very  sore.  I  was 
friendless.  My  religious  friends  had,  on  my  hearing  and 
advocating  the  doctrines  preached  by  all  God's  holy  proph- 
ets ever  since  the  world  began,  become  my  most  inveterate 
foes.  Our  grandfather  was  under  the  dominion  of  the 
woman  1  had  introduced  to  him,  who  had  barred  his  doors 


LIFE    OF  EEV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  167 

against  us.  The  heart  of  our  3'ounger  brother  was  again 
closed,  and,  as  if  angry  with  himself  for  the  concessions 
he  had  made,  was  more  than  ever  estranged  ;  and  even 
our  elder  brother,  who,  in  every  situation,  had  for  a  long 
season  evinced  himself  my  faithful  friend,  had  forsaken 
us!  I  had,  most  indiscreetl}-,  ventured  to  point  out 
some  errors  in  the  domestic  arrangements  of  his  wife, 
which  I  believed  would  eventuate  in  his  ruin,  and  he  so 
far  resented  this  freedom  as  to  abandon  all  intercourse 
with  me.  Among  Mr.  Kelly's  acquaintance  I  had  no 
intimates,  indeed,  hardly  an  acquaintance.  I  had  suf- 
fered so  much  from  religious  connections,  that  I  had  de- 
termined as  much  as  possible  to  stand  aloof  during  the 
residue  of  m}^  journe}^  through  life.  Thus  was  I  circum- 
stanced, when  the  fell  destroyer  of  my  peace  aimed  his 
most  deadly  shafts  at  the  bosom  of  a  being  far  dearer  to 
me  than  nay  existence.  My  credit  failing,  my  wants  multi- 
plying, blessed  be  God,  my  Eliza  was  ignorant  of  the 
extent  of  my  sufferings  !  She  would  have  surrendered  up 
her  life,  even  if  she  had  feared  death,  rather  than  have  per- 
mitted an  application  to  either  of  her  brothers  ;  yet  was  I 
by  the  extremity  of  my  distress  precipitated  upon  a  step 
so  humiliating.  Stopping  at  a  coffee-house  near  our 
brother  William's,  I  penned  a  hurried  line,  requesting  he 
would  give  me  an  immediate  meeting ;  and  sending  it  by 
a  porter,  I  waited  in  agon}-  indescribable  its  effect.  Almost 
instantaneously  he  entered  the  coffee-house,  and,  with- 
out uttering  a  word,  took  a  seat ;  nor  was  I  for  some  mo- 
ments able  to  articulate.  M}^  soul  was  tortured  ;  he  saw 
it,  and  could  not  avoid  feeling.  At  length  he  questioned, 
''  Pray,  what  is  the  matter?"  —  "  Your  sister  is  very  near 
her  end,  and,  were  we  both  so,  it  would  be  to  me  the  cause 


168  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

of  exultation,  and  you  would  have  been  spared  this  trouble. 
My  application  to  you  will  be  a  sufficient  explanation  of 
my  circumstances  ;  and  should  you  think  proper  to  call 
upon  a  once  dear,  now  dying  sister,  I  have  to  request  you 
would  not  notice  my  having  sought  this  interview  ;  it  would 
embitter  the  last  moments  of  her  life."  He  was  amazingh' 
shocked,  yet,  as  this  was  the  first  syllable  he  had  heard  of 
her  indisposition,  he  flattered  himself  my  fears  had  mag- 
nified the  danger ;  but  he  assured  me  he  would  see  her 
without  delay.  I,  however,  desired  he  would  grant  me  time 
to  prepare  her  for  his  visit.  '•  It  must,"  said  I,  "  appear  en- 
tirely accidental."  And  I  hastened  to  our  lodgings.  "  I 
met  your  brother  William,  my  love,  who,  having  heard  3'ou 
are  indisposed,  kindly  inquired  after  you.  I  think  he  means 
to  visit  you."  —  "  If,  my  precious  friend,  you  have  not  de- 
scended so  low  as  to  ask  any  favor  of  him,  I  shall  be  glad 
to  see  him."  —  "I  will  not,  my  love,  do  anj^thing  which  I 
ought  not  to  do."  I  sat  down  by  her  bedside.  That  face 
upon  which  strangers  had  gazed  enraptured,  was  now  the 
seat  of  death's  wan  harbinger,  and  her  struggles  to  conceal 
her  suSerings  were  but  too  visible.  Quitting  the  room,  I 
inquired  of  the  nurse  how  she  had  been  during  my  absence. 
She  told  me  she  had  endured  much  pain,  was  very  anxious 
foi"  my  return,  and  expressed  a  fear  that  she  should  never 
again  behold  me.  I  was  summoned  b}^  the  mistress  of  the 
house,  who  was  so  charmed  by  the  deportment  of  m}' 
Eliza,  and  had  conceived  so  great  an  aff'ection  for  her,  as 
to  find  it  difficult  to  quit  her  apartment.  But  my  suffering 
friend,  taking  my  hand,  and  drawing  me  near  her,  whis- 
pered a  wish  that  we  might  be  alone.  I  gave  the  good  lady 
a  hint,  who  instantly  withdrew. 

I  kneeled  b}^  her  bedside ;   she  drew  me  closer  to  her, 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  169 

and  throwing  her  feeble,  her  emaciated  arms  around  my 
neck  she  gave  me  an  ardent  embrace.  I  was  unutterabl}' 
affected.  "Be  composed,  my  dear,"  said  she,  "and  let 
these  precious  moments  be  as  calm  as  possible  ;  we  ma}" 
not  be  allowed  another  opportunit}-.  Dear,  faithful  friend 
in  life,  —  in  death  dearer  to  me  than  m}'  own  soul,  —  God 
reward  you  for  all  the  kind  care  you  have  taken  of  me  ! 
Oh,  ma}"  m}"  heavenly  Father  provide  some  one  to  siippl}" 
my  place,  who  may  reciprocate  the  kindness  you  have 
shown  me  !  Pray  be  composed.  Remember  we  are  not  at 
home  ;  that  we  shall  shortly  meet  in  our  Father's  house  — " 
here  she  paused,  and  again  resuming:  "Our  parting, 
when  compared  with  eternit}",  will  be  but  for  a  moment. 
What  though  we  have  not  continued  together  so  long  as 
we  fondly  expected,  3'et,  m}'  love,  we  have  had  an  age  of 
happiness.  It  is  you,  m}^  precious  husband,  who  are  the 
object  of  pit}".  God  all-gracious  console  and  support  you. 
Be  of  good  cheer,  my  love,  we  shall  meet  in  the  kingdom 
of  the  Redeemer,  —  indeed,  indeed  we  shall."  Again  she 
threw  her  dyiug  arms  around  me.  Her  soul  seemed  strug- 
gling with  the  magnitude  of  her  emotions.  For  me,  I 
could  not  have  articulated  a  syllable  for  the  world.  It  is 
astonishing  I  did  not  expire.  But  there  is  a  time  to  die. 
Again,  like  the  wasting  taper,  she  seemed  to  revive. 
Again,  with  uncommon  energy,  she  pronounced  upon  her 
almost  frenzied  husband  the  solemn  benediction.  This 
brought  on  a  cough.  She  pointed  to  a  phial  upon  her 
dressing-table.  I  gave  her  a  few  drops.  "There,  my 
best  friend,  I  am  better  ;  be  composed,  my  faithful,  ray 
suffering  guide,  protector,  husband.  Oh,  trust  in  the 
Lord  !  Let  us,  my  love,  stay  upon  the  God  of  our  salva- 
tion.    He  will  never  leave  us.     He  vrill  never  forsake  us." 


170  LIFE    OF  EEV.    JOnX   MURRAY. 

Then,  grasping  my  hand,  she  continued :  ''  These  mo- 
ments, my  dear,  are  very  precious  ;  we  have  had  many 
precious  moments.  You  will  not  go  out  again.  I  shall 
not  again  lose  sight  of  3'ou.  You  will  abide  with  me  so 
long  as  I  shall  continue  — "  I  could  contain  no  longer. 
My  suppressed  agony  became  audible.  She  drew  me  to 
her:  "Do  not  distress  me,  m}^  love."  She  was  deeply 
affected.  Her  cough  came  on  with  additional  violence. 
The  sound  of  my  voice  brought  in  the  kind  lad}^  of  the 
house ;  she  believed  the  angel  had  escaped.  I  requested 
her  to  reach  the  phial.  The  expiring  saint  motioned  it 
away.  "It  is  too  late,  m}^  love,"  she  would  have  added  ; 
but  utterance  instantl}'  failed  her,  and  without  a  single 
struggle  she  breathed  her  last,  still  holding  my  hand  fast 
in  hers.  1  was  on  my  knees  by  her  bedside.  I  saw  she 
was  breathless  ;  but  she  still  held  my  hand.  Ten  thousand 
worlds,  had  I  possessed  them,  I  would  have  given  for  per- 
mission to  have  accompanied  her  beatified  spirit.  I  am 
astonished  that  I  retained  vcLy  reason.  Onl}^  a  few  weeks, 
a  few  tremendous  weeks,  since  the  commencement  of  her 
illness  had  rolled  on,  when,  kneeling  in  speechless  agon}" 
b}'  her  bedside,  I  saw  her  breathe  her  last.  She  expired 
without  a  sigh,  without  a  pang,  and  I  was  left  to  the 
extreme  of  wretchedness.  A  few  moments  gave  me  to 
reflection.  I  contemplated  her  form  beautiful  even  in 
death.  She  was  no  more  a  sufferer  either  in  bod}'  or 
mind ;  and,  for  a  little  while,  I  derived  malignant  satisfac- 
tion from  the  consideration  of  what  her  brothers  would 
endure  when  the}^  found  that  in  this  world  they  should  no 
more  behold  her.  I  was  shocked  at  myself.  It  seemed  as 
if  the  sainted  spirit  mildly  reproved  me.  I  clasped  my 
hands  in  agony.     I  supplicated  pardon  of  the  deceased 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  171 

and  of  her  God.  It  appeared  to  me  I  bad  been  deficient 
in  affection,  and  tbe  idea  spoke  daggers  to  my  soul. 
Memor}'  cruelly  summoned  before  me  man}'  instances  in 
which  she  might  have  been  obliged  ;  but  distraction  was  in 
this  thought.  I  sat  in  speechless  agony  b}'  her  bedside. 
Having  locked  the  door,  no  one  could  obtain  entrance. 
Almighty  God,  how  unutterable  were  the  sorrows  of  my 
soul ! 

I  was  aroused  from  this  state  by  the  arrival  of  our 
brother  William.  He  obtained  entrance  ;  he  glanced  upon 
the  bed,  gazed  for  a  moment,  averted  his  ej'es,  trembled, 
and  became  pale  as  the  face  of  my  lamented  saint,  and 
at  length  in  silent  agou\'  quitted  the  apartment.  The 
good  lady  of  the  house  now  made  her  appearance,  and  in 
a  tone  of  sympath}'  supplicated  me  to  retire.  The  neces- 
sary offices  were  performed,  and  all  that  remained  of  m}^ 
wedded  friend  was  prepared  for  the  undertaker,  who  came 
by  the  order  of  her  opulent  brother,  —  that  brother  who 
had  nefariousl}'  robbed  her  of  her  right  of  inheritance, 
who  contributed  so  largely-,  while  she  lived,  to  her  suffer- 
ings, and  who  now  endured  anguish  more  than  equivalent 
for  all  the  riches  of  the  world.  A  hearse  and  mourning 
coaches  attended ;  and  the  dear  remains,  followed  b}  her 
brothers  and  their  families,  were  entombed  in  the  family 
vault.  The  coachman  was  directed  to  convey  me,  after 
tlie  interment,  to  the  house  of  our  3'ounger  brother.  He 
was  again  a  pre}'  to  contrition  and  to  sorrow,  and  he  urged 
me  to  cherish  hope.  I  assured  him  I  had  nothing  to  do 
with  hope,  at  least  in  this  world.  He  made  great  pro- 
fessions of  affection,  and  liberal  promises  of  future  kind- 
ness.    But  it  was  too  late :  and  though  I  believe  he  was 


172  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

at  the  time  sincere,  yet,  when  his  strong  feelings  subsided, 
he  was  himself  again. 

Here  I  close  another  period  of  ray  eventful  life.  What 
a  sad  reverse  !  A  few  short  weeks  since,  I  was  in  the 
most  enviable  circumstances.  My  situation  was  charming, 
my  dwelling  neat  and  commodious  ;  m}^  wife,  the  object  of 
my  soul's  devout  and  sincere  affection  ;  her  lovely  offspring 
swelling  the  rapture  of  the  scene  ;  male  and  female  do- 
mestics attached  to  our  persons,  and  faithful  to  our  inter- 
est ;  and  the  pleasing  hope  that  I  should  enjoy  a  long  suc- 
cession of  these  delights.  Now  I  was  alone  in  the  world. 
No  wife,  no  child,  no  domestics,  no  home  ;  nothing  but 
the  ghosts  of  my  departed  joys.  In  religion,  and  religion 
onl}',  the  last  resort  of  the  wretched,  I  found  the  sem- 
blance of  repose.  Religion  taught  me  to  contemplate  the 
state  to  which  I  was  hastening.  My  dreams  presented 
my  departed  Eliza.  I  saw  her  in  a  variety  of  views,  but 
in  every  view  celestial ;  sometimes  she  was  still  living,  but 
in  haste  to  be  gone  ;  sometimes  she  descended  upon  my 
imagination,  a  heavenly  visitant  commissioned  to  con- 
duct me  home.  And  so  much  of  felicity  did  I  derive 
from  those  dreams  that  I  longed  for  the  hour  of  repose, 
that  I  might  reiterate  the  visionary  bliss. 

But  new  embarrassments  awaited  me  ;  doctors,  apothe- 
caries, grocers,  etc.,  etc.,  advanced  with  their  bills;  yet  I 
was  not  much  affected.  I  was  overwhelmed  by  far  greater 
alflictions.  My  health  had  greatly  suffered.  My  sight, 
by  excess  of  sorrow,  —  so  said  my  physician,  —  was 
almost  gone.  Often  have  I  traversed  George's  Fields, 
where  man 3^  have  met  death  on  the  point  of  the  footpad's 
dagger,  in  the  mournful  hope  of  meeting  a  similar  fate  : 
forgetting,  in   the  state  to  which  I  was  reduced,  that  in 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  173 

thus  devoting  myself  to  destruction  I  indubitably  ranked 
with  the  self-murderer.  The  eldest  brother  of  my  de- 
parted friend  continued  from  the  period  of  his  sister's 
demise  uniformly  kind.  Through  his  instrumentality, 
many  of  m}^  most  pressing  debts  were  discharged.  My 
mind  seemed  subdued  ;  it  became  a  fit  residence  for  sor- 
row, when  I  received  a  letter  from  Ireland  written  by  my 
brother  James.  Many  of  our  family  were  numbered  with 
the  dead  ;  of  all  her  children,  m}'  mother  had  now  only 
three  surviving  sons  and  two  daughters.  My  eldest  sister 
was  married,  and  my  mother,  leaving  our  common  prop- 
erty in  her  care,  was  about  to  repair  with  her  youngest 
daughter  and  two  sons  to  England.  She  was  not  apprised 
of  the  death  of  my  Eliza.  I  had  written  her  that  I  was 
blessed  with  a  most  lovely  and  exemplary  companion  ;  but 
from  the  death  of  my  son,  and  the  farther  and  entire  pros- 
tration of  my  terrestrial  happiness,  I  had  suspended  my 
communications.  I  was  now  again  necessitated  to  take  a 
house.  My  mother  and  m}^  brothers  resided  with  me  ;  and 
my  sister  with  a  lady  to  whom  she  had  been  introduced  in 
Ireland.  She  soon  after  married,  and,  as  I  believed,  im- 
prudentl}^  and  I  saw  her  no  more.  I  now  lived  a  mourn- 
ful life.  The  world  appeared  to  me  in  a  very  different 
point  of  view  from  what  it  had  formerl}^  done  ;  y^i  I  de- 
rived ecstatic  pleasure  from  my  views  of  revelation.  Wil- 
liam Neale  became  convinced  of  the  truth,  as  it  is  in  Jesus ; 
and,  of  course,  an  adherent  of  Mr.  Relly.  This  soothed 
me,  and  the  word  of  God  was  an  abiding  consolation.  To 
a  few  individuals  I  was  made  a  messenger  of  peace  ;  but 
my  mother  and  my  brother  James  remained  inveterate 
opposers  of  the  doctrines  I  had  embraced.  I  sometimes 
visited  the  tabernacle,  and,  conceiving  an  affection  for  all 


174  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOnN  MURRAY. 

meD,  I  had  a  kind  of  satisfaction  in  standing  in  the  midst 
of  my  brethren.  It  was  at  the  tabernacle  I  was  informed 
that  a  poor,  unhapp}',  widowed  woman,  sister  to  a  man 
whom  I  had  loved,  was  in  most  deplorable  circumstances. 
She  had  been  deceived  b}'  a  villain  ;  her  kindred  had  been 
made  acquainted  with  her  situation,  but  their  indignation 
was  kindled  against  her  ;  they  would  not  see  her  ;  and  her 
religious  connections  abandoned  her  while  she  was  suffer- 
ing all  the  miseries  of  want  accompanied  by  her  own 
agonizing  reflections.  I  discovered  her  in  a  miserable 
room  ;  no  glass  in  the  windows,  no  fire  in  the  chimney. 
She  was  lying  on  something  which  had  been  a  bed ;  a 
child  of  a  few  da3's  old  in  her  bosom,  but  no  nourishment 
for  it ;  another  child  dekd  by  her  side,  and  a  third  ap- 
parently dying.  Upon  my  entrance  she  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands.  "  I  know  you,  sir ;  you  are  come  to  up- 
braid me.  Yes,  I  deserve  it  all ;  but,  by  and  b}',  my 
measure  will  be  full."  I  burst  into  tears.  "  I  come  to 
upbraid  you?  God  forbid.  No,  poor  sufferer;  I  am 
come  a  messenger  from  that  God,  who  giveth  liberall}', 
and  upbraideth  not.  Be  of  good  cheer ;  you  have  still  a 
Father  who  loves  you  with  an  everlasting  love,  and  he  has 
sent  me  to  comfort  you ;  he  has  seen  your  affliction,  and 
he  has  bid  me  relieve  j^ou." 

This  seemed  too  much  for  the  poor,  forlorn  creature  ;  she 
appeared  in  the  moment  of  expiring.  I  ran  out  of  the 
house,  into  a  shop  at  the  corner  of  the  alley,  the  mistress 
of  which  was,  to  my  knowledge,  perfectly  acquainted  with 
the  situation  of  the  sufferer.  I  demanded  why  she  thus 
neglected  a  human  being.  "  Ah,  the  wretched  crea- 
ture, she  deserves  this  and  more,"  was  this  good  iooman''s 
•reply.    But,  although  neither  the  love  of  God,  nor  of  human 


i 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  175 

nature  could  move  this  hard-hearted  woman,  I  had  that  in 
my  pocket,  which  possessed,  for  her,  an  irresistible  charm ; 
and  at  the  hazard  of  my  reputation,  I  bade  her  procure 
coal,  a  restorative  cordial,  and  a  blanket  to  cover  the 
sufferer.  I  then  proceeded  to  the  dwelling  of  a  lad}^,  one 
of  Mr.  Kelly's  congregation,  to  whom  1  had  recently'  been 
introduced.  I  represented  the  situation,  in  wliich,  in  the 
midst  of  an  opulent  city,  I  had  discovered  a  fellow-creature. 
The  lady  was  extremely  affected,  and  her  aid  was  instan- 
taneous. The  next  day,  Sunday,  I  again  visited  the 
poor  penitent,  whom  I  found  relieved  and  comforted. 
She  requested  me,  with  man}'  tears,  to  put  up  a  note 
for  her."  There  happened,  on  that  day,  to  preach  in 
the  tabernacle  a  Mr.  Edwards,  whom  I  had  formerly 
known,  in  connection  with  Mr.  Wesley.  I  presented  a 
note  in  the  following  words  :  "  The  prayers  of  this  con- 
gregation are  requested  in  behalf  of  a  widow  indeed, 
confined  to  a  bed  of  sickness,  without  propert}'  and  en- 
compassed by  the  dj^ing  and  the  dead."  I  attended  again 
in  the  tabernacle  in  the  evening,  and  when  the  sermon 
closed,  Mr.  Edwards  said  :  "If  the  person  be  here  who 
put  up  the  note  this  morning,  in  behalf  of  a  widow  indeed, 
I  should  be  glad  to  speak  with  him  in  the  vestry."  Ac- 
cordingly presenting  m3'self,  I  was  very  cordially  received 
by  Mr.  Edwards,  who  observed,  he  was  happy  I  was  the 
person ;  that  his  feelings  had  been  greatly  affected  by  the 
note  ;  that  he  had  read  it  to  a  lady,  at  whose  house  he  had 
dined,  who,  putting  two  guineas  into  his  hand,  requested 
him,  if  possible,  to  find  out  the  widow  indeed,  and  bestow 
them  upon  her.  I  conve3'ed  this  little  sum  to  the  sorrow- 
ing woman,  with  feelings  which  those  who  know  how  to 
sympathize  with   the  unfortunate  will  easilj^  understand ; 


176  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

and  I  assured  the  poor  mourner,  that  the  God  who  gives 
and  forgives  had  sent  her  another  proof  of  his  favor. 
"Arise,"  said  I,  "  forlorn  sufferer,  and  sin  no  more."  I  had 
the  charge  of  the  child's  funeral ;  the  other  recovered.  The 
mother  was  soon  abroad,  and  continued  ever  after  to  con- 
duct with  exemplary  propriet}'.  This  instance,  among  a 
thousand  others,  proves  that  faith  in  the  promises  is  the 
best  stimulus  to  that  pure  and  undefiled  religion  which 
consists  in  relieving  the  oppressed  of  every  description. 
And  with  gratitude  I  confess,  that  this  pure  and  undefiled 
religion  was,  to  me,  a  never-failing  source  of  consolation. 
I  was  full  of  the  gospel.  Gladly  would  I  have  sacrificed 
my  life,  if  I  might  thus  have  brought  all  men  acquainted 
with  the  riches  of  the  grace  of  the  gospel  of  God  our 
Saviour.  And  my  soul  was  often  wrought  up  to  a  degree 
of  ecstasy  b}^  the  views  exhibited  to  my  understanding  in 
the  pages  of  divine  revelation.  Yes,  I  have  experienced 
that  a  belief  of  the  truth  disposes  the  mind  to  love  God, 
and  to  do  good  to  man.  And  so  greatly  was  my  heart 
afl^^ected  by  the  plan  of  redemption,  that  I  have,  in  the 
midst  of  the  streets  of  London,  been  so  entranced  in  con- 
templating its  glories,  that  I  have  only  been  awakened  to 
recollection  by  the  jostling  crowd,  who  wondered  as  they 
passed.  Yet,  while  in  the  fulness  of  m}^  heart  I  embraced 
every  opportunity  of  expatiating  upon  the  great  salvation, 
everything  beside  had  lost  the  power  to  charm,  or  even 
tranquillize,  and  the  torturing  sensations  I  experienced, 
from  reflecting  upon  past  times,  were  not  to  be  expressed. 
Death  had  for  me  an  angel's  face,  and  I  viewed  this  some- 
times king  of  terrors  as  my  emancipating  friend. 

The  forbearance  of  my  creditors  was  at  length  exhausted. 
Debts  crowded  upon  me.     Demands,  which  I  was  utterly 


I 


LIFE    OF  REV.   JOHX  MURRAY.  177 

unable  to  answer,  were  continually  made.  Had  the  health 
of  my  lovel}^  wife  been  continued  I  was  in  a  very  fine  way. 
Her  sickness,  her  death,  by  dashing  from  me  the  cup  of 
felicity,  while  expenses  accumulated,  debilitated  my  mind, 
and  rendered  me  unequal  to  those  efforts  which  m}'  exi- 
gencies required.  In  the  midst  of  ni}"  supineness,  I  was 
taken  by  a  writ,  and  borne  to  a  sponging-house.  My 
sensations  were,  on  this  occasion,  very  different  from 
those  which  I  had  formerly  experienced  in  a  similar  situa- 
tion, and  I  derived  from  the  expected  seclusion  a  kind 
of  melanchol}"  pleasure.  The  officer  was  astonished  at  my 
apathy.  I  refused  sustenance  ;  I  had  no  inclination  for 
food.  I  would  swallow  nothing  but  water.  I  would  have 
no  bed.  A  bed  must  be  paid  for,  and  I  was  penniless. 
I  slept  on  the  floor  of  a  room  hung  with  cobwebs,  the 
windows  of  which  were  secured  by  iron  bars.  I  prayed 
most  fervently  to  Him,  with  whom  are  the  issues  of  life  and 
death,  that  as  he  had  not  allowed  his  creatures  the  privi- 
lege of  departing  out  of  time  when  and  how  the}'  pleased, 
he  would  graciously  vouchsafe  to  grant  me  my  deliverance 
from  a  world  where  I  could  serve  neither  my  God,  my 
neighbor,  nor  myself.  But,  alas  !  as  I  have  often  found, 
death  comes  not  at  call.  The  barred  windows  admitted 
just  light  enough  to  announce  the  return  of  day  ;  soon 
after  which  the  keeper  unlocked  the  door,  and  in  a  surly 
manner  asked  me  how  I  did.     "  Indifferent,  sir,"  I  replied. 

''  By   ,  I  think  so  !  but,  sir,  give  me  leave  to  tell  you, 

/  am  not  indifferent,  and  if  3'ou  do  not  very  soon  settle 
with  your  creditors,  I  shall  take  the  liberty  to  lodge  you 
in  Newgate.     I  keep  nobod}^  in  my  house  that  does  not 

spend  anj'thing,  me.     I  cannot  keep  house,  and  pay 

rent  and  taxes,  for  nothing.     When  a  gentleman  behaves 
12 


178  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

civil,  I  behave  civil ;  but, me,  if  ttiey  are  sulkj^  why 

then  do  ye  see,  I  can  be  sulky  too.  So,  sir,  you  had  better 
tell  me  what  you  intend  to  do."  —  "  Nothing.  "  —  "  Noth- 
ing?   me,  that's  a  good  one  ;    then  b}^  you  shall 

soon  see  /will  do  something  that  3'ou  will  not  very  well 
like."  He  then  turned  upon  his  heel,  drew  the  door  with 
a  vengeance,  and  double-locked  it.  Soon  after  this  his 
helpmate  presented  herself,  and  began  to  apologize  for  her 
husband  ;  said  he  was  very  quick ;  hoped  I  w^ould  not  be 
oflfended,  for  he  was  a  very  good  man  in  the  main ;  that 
she  believed  there  never  was  a  gentleman  in  that  house 
(and  she  would  be  bold  to  say,  there  had  been  as  good 
gentlemen  there  as  in  an}^  house  in  London)  who  had 
ever  any  reason  to  complain  of  his  conduct.  He  would 
wait  upon  any  of  my  friends  to  whom  I  should  think  fit 
to  send  him,  and  do  all  in  his  power  to  make  matters  easy. 
"  And  if  you  please,  sir,  you  are  welcome  to  come  down 
into  the  parlor  and  breakfast  with  me."  —  "  And  pray,  my 
good  lady,  where  are  you  to  get  your  pay?  "  —  "  Oh,  I  will 
trust  to  that,  sir  ;  I  am  sure  you  are  a  gentleman.  Do,  sir, 
come  down  and  breakfast ;  you  will  be  better  after  break- 
fast. Bless  your  soul,  sir,  why  there  have  been  hundreds, 
who  settled  their  affairs,  and  did  very  well  afterwards." 
I  was  prevailed  upon  to  go  down  to  breakfast.  There  was, 
in  the  centre  of  the  entry,  a  door  half  way  up,  with  long 
pikes  ;  every  window  was  barred  with  iron ;  escape  was 
impossible  ;  and  indeed  I  had  no  wish  to  escape.  A  kind 
of  mournful  insensibility  pervaded  my  soul,  for  which  I 
w^as  not  then  disposed  to  account,  but  which  I  have  since 
regarded  as  an  instance  of  divine  goodness,  calculated  to 
preserve  my  little  remains  of  health,  as  well  as  that  reason 
which  had  frequently  tottered  in  its  seat. 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  179 

To  the  impertinent  prattle  of  the  female  turnke}^  I  paid 
no  attention  ;  but,  hastil}^  s^Yallowing  a  cup  of  tea,  I  re- 
tired to  my  prison.  This  irritated  her.  She  expected  I 
would  have  tarried  below,  and,  as  is  the  custom,  summoned 
m}'  friends,  who,  whether  they  did  anything  for  m}^  advan- 
tage or  not,  would,  by  calling  for  punch,  wine,  etc.,  etc., 
unquestionably  contribute  to  the  advantage  of  the  house. 
But  as  I  made  no  proposal  of  this  kind,  nor  indeed  ever 
intended  so  to  do,  they  saw  it  was  improbable  the}^  should 
reap  any  benefit  by  or  from  me  ;  and  having  given  me  a 
plentiful  share  of  abuse,  and  appearing  much  provoked  that 
they  could  not  move  me  to  anger,  they  were  preparing  to 
carry  me  to  Newgate,  there  to  leave  me  among  other  poor, 
desperate  debtors;  and  their  determination  being  thus 
fixed,  T  was  at  liberty  to  continue  in  mj^  gloomy  apartment, 
and,  what  I  esteemed  an  especial  favor,  to  remain  there 
uninterrupted.  I  received  no  invitation  either  to  dinner, 
tea,  or  supper.  They  just  condescended  to  inform  me, 
when  the}^  came  to  lock  me  in,  that  I  should  have  another 
lodging  the  ensuing  night ;  to  which  I  made  no  reply.  M3" 
spirits,  however,  sunk  in  the  prospect  of  Newgate.  There, 
I  was  well  informed,  I  could  not  be  alone.  There,  I  knew, 
my  associates  would  many  of  them  be  atrocious  offenders, 
and  I  was,  in  truth,  immeasurably  distressed.  It  was  now 
that  ever}^  argument  which  I  had  ever  read  in  favor  of 
suicide  was  most  officiously  obtruded  upon  my  mind,  and 
warmly  impressed  upon  my  imagination.  It  was  stated 
that  m}^  Almighty  Father  could  not  be  angry  with  me  for 
leaving  such  a  world,  in  such  circumstances.  The  opposi- 
tion of  reason  seemed  to  result  from  the  prejudices  of  edu- 
cation ;  "  and,"  said  illusive  fancy.  ''  as  it  is  appointed  for 
ail  men  once  to  die,  to  do  that  to-day  which  I  may  do  to- 


180  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

morrow,  and  what  I  must  shortly  do,  cannot  be  very 
wrong."  It  is  true,  my  monitor  assured  me  that  the  God 
who  had  created  me  was  the  oxiXy  proper  judge  of  the  exact 
moment  when  I  ought  to  be  removed  out  of  time ;  that 
he  best  knew  what  benefit  might  accrue  to  myself,  or  the 
community,  hy  my  longer  continuance  in  this  vale  of  tears. 
Yet  these  remarks,  with  many  more  of  the  same  descrip- 
tion, were  not  sufficiently  imposing  to  endow  me  with  reso- 
lution still  to  ''  abide  the  pelting  of  the  pitiless  storm;  "  and 
I  determined  to  finish  my  wretched  existence  before  the 
dawning  of  another  morning.  This  was  indeed  a  night  of 
horror.  But  in  the  moment  of  executing  my  fatal,  my  God- 
dishonoring  purpose,  the  image  of  my  Eliza,  irradiating  the 
prison  walls,  seemed  to  stand  before  me.  She  appeared  as 
if  commissioned  by  Heaven  to  soothe  my  tortured  spirit. 
I  prostrated  myself  before  the  perhaps  imaginary  vision, 
and,  for  the  first  moment  since  I  had  occupied  this  dreary 
abode,  my  heart  softened,  and  a  shower  of  tears  came  to 
my  relief;  yea,  and  I  was  relieved.  My  soul  became  calm, 
and  although  every  hope  from  this  world  was  extinct  in  my 
bosom,  yet  I  believed  I  should  be  better  able  to  accommo- 
date myself  to  whatever  sufferings  the  Almighty  might 
think  proper  to  inflict.  I  passed  the  rem^iinder  of  the  night 
in  endeavoring  to  fortify  my  mind.  A  pleasing  melancholy 
took  possession  of  my  spirit.  I  drew  consolation  from 
remembering  the  time  of  suffering  was  not  long  ;  that  there 
was  a  rest,  a  life  of  uninterrupted  felicity  bej'ond  the  grave  ; 
that  of  this  rest,  this  life,  no  power  on  earth  could  deprive 
me  ;  and  that  I  ought  therefore  quietly  to  wait,  and  patiently 
to  hope,  for  the  salvation  of  my  God.  Thus,  although  my 
night  had  been  sleepless,  my  mind  became  so  calm,  and  my 
spirit  so  greatly  refreshed,  that  when  tlie  keeper  opened  the 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MUBRAY.  181 

door  in  the  morning  to  inform  me  that  in  three  hours  he 
should  lodge  me  in  Newgate,  I  answered,  with  unaffected 
composure,  "  I  am  read}-,  sir." 

In  less  than  an  hour,  however,  I  had  a  new  source  of 
inquietude.  My  brother,  William  Neale,  having  received  a 
hint  of  the  arrest,  had  searched  from  place  to  place,  until 
at  length  finding  me,  with  tears  of  S3'mpath3'  lie  reproached 
me,  even  in  the  presence  of  the  woman,  for  not  immediatelj^ 
summoning- him  to  my  relief.  This  female  turnke}',  observ- 
ing the  appearance  of  my  brother,  and  the  feeling  manner 
in  which  he  addressed  me,  began  to  hope,  notwithstanding 
what  she  had  termed  my  obstinacy,  that  the}^  should  reap 
some  benefit  from  me  after  all.  "Why,"  said  William, 
"  did  you  not  send  for  me  immediately  upon  your  entering 
this  house  ?  "  —  "  Ay,  dear  sir,  so  I  said  ;  wh}^,  dear  sir, 
said  I,  cannot  you  send  for  some  of  3'our  friends?  for  I 
know'd  as  how  the  gentleman  had  many  friends,  and  my 
husband  would  have  gone  himself  to  any  part  of  the  town, 
with  all  his  soul.  No  one  can  ever  say  that  we  were  back- 
ward in  doing  everything  in  our  power  to  serve  and  oblige 
ever^"  gentleman  that  ever  came  into  our  house.  And, 
though  I  saj^  it  that  should  not  sa}-  it,  I  believe  there  is  not 
a  house  in  our  way,  in  London,  that'has  ever  had  more  good 
people  in  it  as  a  body  may  sa}^  than  ours.  And,  saj's  I, 
Lord,  sir,  says  I,  3^ou  need  not  for  to  make  3^ourself  uneas3'. 
It  is  no  crime,  sa3"s  I,  to  be  in  diflSculty,  or  the  like  of  that ; 
the  best  people  in  the  world,  sa3's  I,  are  in  the  greatest 
diflSculties,  sa3^s  I.  I  am  sure  I  have  had  my  share  of 
troubles  and  difficulties  in  this  world,  sa3's  I ;  but  I  had 
better,  sa3's  I,  have  them  here,  than  in  a  worse  place.  I 
hope  I  shall  atone  for  all  my  sins  here."  Thus  did  this 
creature's  tongue  run,  and  would  have  continued  so  to  do, 


182  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHX  MURRAY. 

had  not  my  brother  asked  if  I  had  breakfasted.  "  Ay,  sir, 
I  am  glad  to  hear  3'ou  say  something  of  that.  The  poor 
gentleman  has  not  seemed  to  care  anything  about  eating  or 
drinking  ;  for  my  part  I  was  frightened,  in  the  dread  of  the 
poor  gentleman's  dying  in  the  house.  I  would  have  urged 
him  over  and  over  again  ;  but,  said  I,  maybe  he  will  think 
as  how  that  I  mean  my  own  interest,  and  so  I  did  not  care 
to  say  much  about  it ;  but,  sir,  the  poor  gentleman  can't 
think  you  have  any  interest."  —  "Get  breakfast,  ma'am." 
—  "  Tea  or  coffee,  gentlemen  ?  "  —  "  Both,  ma'am  ;  and, 
do  you  hear,  let  us  have  a  private  room."  —  "  Yes,  sir." 
When  left  alone,  my  friend  and  brother  again  reproached 
me  for  delating  my  communications  to  him.  I  frankl}^  told 
him  that  I  was  so  far  from  being  disposed  to  solicit  his  aid, 
that  I  seriously  regretted  he  had  discovered  me  ;  that  I  had 
no  wish  to  involve  m}^  friends  in  my  difficulties  ;  that  I 
would  much  rather  continue  a  prisoner  for  the  remainder  of 
my  life  than  incur  obligations  which  I  had  no  prospect  of 
discharging.  "  Poh,  poh !  "  said  he,  "  this  is  idle  talk. 
You  cannot  believe  you  would  be  the  onh'  sufferer  from 
your  continuing  endurance."  —  "But  I  should  not  suffer 
long."  —  "  You  know  not  how  long,  however.  Drop  the  sub- 
ject, here  is  breakfast.  Sit  you  down,  and  let  us  breakfast 
together  ;  we  will  resume  our  subject  by  and  b3\"  —  "  Yes, 
William,  we  will  resume  our  subject  by  and  b}' ;  but  suffer 
me  to  observe,  3'ou  shall  not  come  under  bonds  on  my 
account,  neither  shall  you  discharge  my  debts.  Consent  to 
this  stipulation,  or  I  touch  no  breakfast."  — "  Pshaw, 
pshaw  !  how  whimsical ;  but  eat  your  breakfast,  man.  I 
promise  I  will  do  neither."  We  then  breakfasted  in  peace, 
and  I  derived  a  mournful  kind  of  pleasure  from  the  assur- 
ance that  1  should  not  involve  the  brother  of  Eliza  in  my 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  183 

ruin.  But  how  great  was  my  astonishment,  when  he  or- 
dered in  the  officer,  who  was  also  master  of  the  house, 
when,  after  demanding  and  discharging  his  bill,  he  pro- 
duced a  receipt  in  full  from  my  creditor,  and  a  complete 
discharge  for  me.  Thus  was  I  liberated  from  the  fangs  of 
these  harpies,  and  I  accompanied  this  commiserating  brother 
to  his  hospitable  mansion,  where  he  related  to  me  the  means 
by  which  he  had  discovered  me. 

Quitting  this  noble-minded  friend,  I  hastened  home  to  my 
suffering  mother,  who  was  in  agonies  on  my  account. 
Ignorant  where  I  was,  or  what  was  my  situation,  her  appre- 
hensions were  of  the  most  fearful  kind.  We  mingled  our 
tears,  while  she  most  affection atel}'  endeavored  to  soothe 
me  and  to  bind  up  m}^  broken  heart ;  but  my  only  remain- 
ing hope  was,  that,  in  this  distempered  state,  I  had  not 
long  to  suffer.  But,  alas  !  here  also  I  was  deceived.  Long, 
very  long  have  I  continued,  and  with  heartfelt  sorrow,  to 
tread  this  thorny  maze.  The  brothers  of  m}^  departed  angel 
combined  to  help  me  forward ;  many  plans  were  proposed 
for  me.  A  sum  of  monej^  was  hired,  to  place  me  as  a  part- 
ner in  a  mercantile  house,  and  my  brothers  were  my  bonds- 
men !  I  detested  the  thought  of  new  prospects  from  such 
a  world  as  this,  but,  to  my  beloved  William,  I  was  largely 
in  debt.  He  had  a  growing  family,  and  both  gratitude 
as  well  as  justice  demanded  I  should  make  every  effort  for 
his  remuneration.  Thus  I  again  became  a  melancholy  man 
of  business.  It  was  supposed  the  road,  not  only  to  com- 
petenc}',  but  to  affluence,  was  open  before  me,  and  I  was 
pronouucecr  in  flourishing  circumstances.  It  was,  for  those 
who  loved  me,  a  pleasing  dream  ;  but  soon  the  golden  vision 
vanished,  and  I  awoke  to  the  certainty  of  its  being  no  more 
than  a  dream. 


184  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

Again  I  returned  to  my  lonel}^  dwelling,  pleased  with  the 
thought  that  my  solitude  would  no  more  be  interrupted ; 
again  I  detested  the  world,  and  all  which  it  could  bestow. 
Thus  a  few  more  melancholy  months  rolled  mournfully 
away,  and  I  expected  to  finish  my  daj^s  in  the  retirement 
to  which  I  was  devoted.  One  consideration,  however,  still 
pressed  heavily  upon  my  mind.  The  very  considerable 
sums  for  which  I  was  indebted  to  my  generous  brother 
were  to  me  a  might}^  burden ;  and  this  beloved  brother, 
availing  himself  of  my  anxiety  on  this  account,  once  more 
set  me  afloat.  Many  were  the  efforts  to  which  I  consented  ; 
great  were  my  mental  sacrifices.  But  one  expedient  re- 
mained ;  it  was  a  mournful  expedient.  I  will  not  delineate. 
I  pause  ;  I  throw  a  veil  over  many  revolving  months ;  let  it 
sufllce  to  say  my  purpose  was  gained,  my  debts  were  paid, 
my  pecuniary  circumstances  eas}' ;  but  this  was  all.  How 
mysterious  are  the  ways  of  Heaven  !  How  many  torturing 
scenes  I  have  passed  through !  But,  blessed  be  God,  1 
have  passed  through  them !  Thanks  be  to  the  Father  of 
mercies,  they  can  no  more  be  reiterated.  My  newly  ac- 
quired competency  possessed  no  charms  for  me.  I  derived 
no  satisfaction  from  anything  around  me.  In  fact,  I  had 
nothing  in  prospect,  and  hope  seemed  to  have  expired  in 
my  bosom. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE  BEREAVED  MAN,  QUITTING  HIS  NATIVE  SHORES,  EM- 
BARKS FOR  AMERICA,  INDULGING  THE  FOND  HOPE  OF 
SEQUESTERING    HIMSELF    IN    THE    SOLITUDE    FOR    WHICH    HE 

SIGHED. BUT,  CONTRARY  TO  HIS    EXPECTATIONS,  A    SERIES 

OF    CIRCUMSTANCES    COMBINE    TO    MAKE     HIM    A    PROMULGA- 
TOR   OF    THE    GOSPEL    OF    GOD,    OUR    SAVIOUR. 

Death's  sable  pall  o'er  all  my  pleasures  thrown, 
My  native  isle  to  me  a  desert  grown ; 
Sad  and  forlorn,  to  the  New  World  I  fled, 
Amid  its  wilds  to  shield  my  widowed  head. 

Having,  as  has  been  described,  laid  the  companion  of 
my  3'outh,  the  wife  of  m}^  bosom,  in  the  grave,  my  spirit 
still  hovered  round  her  tomb.  It  has  been  seen  that  my 
life  seemed  devoted  to  misery ;  that  I  wept  at  all  times, 
except  when- 1  turned  my  attention  to  that  bright  world, 
upon  which  I  imagined  I  was  verging ;  that  I  wished  the 
act  of  putting  a  period  to  a  weaiy  life  had  ranked  among 
the  Christian  virtues ;  that  I  never  more  passionately 
longed  for  any  good,  than  for  the  period  which  was  to  put 
an  end  to  my  existence  ;  that  T  had  but  few  acquaintances  ; 
that  I  wished  not  to  form  new  connections ;  that  I  was 
sick  of  the  world  and  all  which  it  could  bestow ;  that  the 
retirement  of  m}'  lonely  dwelling  was  most  acceptable  to 
me  ;  that  I  abhorred  the  thought  of  expecting  anything  like 
happiness  in  this  world  ;  and  that  I  thus  passed  weeks  and 
months,  verily  believing  that  I  should  thus  finish  mj^  daj's, 
which  I  cherished  a  soothing  hope  would  soon  be  numbered. 

185 


186  LIFE    OF  REV,    JOHN  MURRAY, 

Through  those  sad  scenes  of  sorrow  to  which  I  was  con- 
demned, I  had  one  friend,  —  one  earthly  friend,  —  from  whom 
I  derived  real  consolation.  This  friend  was  Mr.  James 
Relly,  the  man  who  had  been  made  an  instrument,  in  the 
hand  of  God,  of  leading  me  into  an  acquaintance  with  the 
truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.  This  kind  friend  often  visited  me  ; 
and  in  conversing  with  him  I  found  my  heart  lightened  of 
its  burden.  I  could  better  bear  the  pitiless  storm  that  beat 
upon  me,  when  strengthened  by  the  example  of  this  son  of 
sorrow.  We  frequently  conversed-  upon  things  of  the  king 
dom,  and  Mr.  Relly,  observing  my  heart  much  warmed  and 
enlarged  by  these  subjects,  urged  me  to  g:i  forth  and  make 
mention  of  the  loving-kindness  of  God.  "  No,  no,"  I  con- 
stantly replied,  "  it  is  not  my  design  again  to  step  forth  in  a 
public  character.  I  have  been  a  promulgator  of  falsehood." 
—  "  And  why  not,"  he  would  interrupt,  "  a  promulgator  of 
truth?  Surely  you  owe  this  atonement  to  the  God  who 
hath  irradiated  your  understanding  by  the  light  of  his  coun- 
tenance." But  no  argument  he  made  use  of  was  sufficiently 
strong  to  excite  in  my  bosom  a  single  wish  that  I  had 
either  inclination  or  capability  for  a  character  so  arduous ; 
m}''  heart's  desire  was  to  pass  through  life,  wn/iearci,  unseen^ 
unknown  to  all,  as  though  I  ne^er  had  been.  I  had  an  aver- 
sion to  society  ;  and,  since  I  could  not  be  permitted  to 
leave  the  world,  I  was  solicitous  to  retire  from  its  noise 
and  its  nonsense.  I  was,  indeed,  a  burden  to  myself,  and 
no  advantage  to  anj^body  else.  Every  place,  every  thing 
served  to  render  me  more  miserable,  for  they  led  my  mind 
to  the  contemplation  of  past  scenes,  —  of  scenes  never 
more  to  return.  Such  was  the  situation  of  mind,  when,  at 
the  house  of  one  of  Mr.  Kelly's  hearers,  1  accidentally  met 
a  gentleman  from  America.     1  listened  with  attention  to 


LIFE    OF   REV.   JOHN  MURRAY,  187 

his  account  of  the  country  in  which  he  had  so  long  resided. 
I  was  charmed  with  his  description  of  its  extent,  its  forests, 
its  lakes,  its  rivers,  its  towns,  its  inhabitants,  the  liberty 
they  enjoyed,  and  the  peace  and  plenty  which  they  pos- 
sessed. I  listened  to  everything  with  astonishment ;  and  I 
turned  toward  the  New  World  my  most  ardent  wishes.  I 
communicated  m}'  desire  to  visit  America  to  my  mother, 
to  my  brethren.  I  was  ridiculed  for  entertaining  a  project 
so  chimerical.  What,  cross  the  Atlantic?  For  what  pur- 
pose ?  To  whom  would  I  go  ?  What  could  I  do  ?  What 
object  could  I  have  in  view?  I  was  unable  to  answer  any 
of  these  questions.  I  had  not  a  single  acquaintance  in 
America  ;  indeed,  I  had  no  wish  to  make  acquaintance.  I 
had  nothing  in  prospect  but  a  kind  of  negative  happiness.. 
I  did  not  mean  to  commence  a  voyage  in  pursuit  of  bliss,  but 
to  avoid  if  possible  a  part  of  my  misery. 

My  mind  for  a  considerable  time  labored  with  mj-  pur- 
pose. Man}'  difficulties  interposed.  I  would  infinitel}'  have 
preferred  entering  that  narrow  house  which  is  appointed 
for  all  living  ;  but  this  I  was  not  permitted  to  do  ;  and  I 
conceived  to  quit  England  and  to  retire  to  America  was 
the  next  thing  to  be  desired.  Nights  and  days  of  deliber- 
ation at  length  convinced  my  judgment,  and  I  was  deter- 
mined to  depart  for  the  New  World.  My  few  friends  urged 
me  most  earnestly  to  let  them  apply  to  those  who  had  con- 
iTections  in  America,  for  letters  of  introduction  or  recom- 
mendation. No,  by  no  means  ;  this  would  most  effectually 
dc:eat  my  purpose.  I  would  rather  not  go  than  go  thus. 
My  object  was  to  close  my  life  in  solitude,  in  the  most 
complete  retirement ;  and  with  those  views  I  commenced 
))reparations  for  my  voyage.  I  visited  the  brother  of  my 
departed  wife,  and  I  beheld  both  him  and  his  children,  with- 


188  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

the  same  e^^es  a  dying  person  would  have  beheld  them. 
Tears  frequently  stole  down  my  face,  and  a  thousand 
thoughts  that  served  to  harrow  up  my  soul  crowded  upon 
me.  I  was  determined  not  to  repeat  this  scene,  and  I  bade 
them  adieu.  Could  I  have  done  this  upon  a  bed  of  death, 
how  much  happier  should  I  have  been  ! 

The  place  I  now  occupied,  to  which  I  had  recently  re- 
moved, was  extremely  beautiful ;  it  was  in  the  vicinity  of 
London.  I  had  a  fine  garden  and  a  delightful  prospect. 
But  my  better  self  had  fled  this  globe,  and  with  her  fled 
m}^  soul's  calm  sunshine^  every  heart-felt  joy.  I  was,  as  I 
have  frequently  said,  extremely  wretched.  I  spake  to  the 
master  of  a  vessel  bound  to  New  York.  I  agreed  for  my 
passage.  My  heart  trembled  ;  it  was  worse  than  death. 
He  fixed  the  time  for  my  departure  ;  every  arrangement 
was  made.  M}'  brother,  my  widowed  mother,  —  I  met  them 
in  m}^  parlor  ;  it  was  torturing.  ''  Sit  down,  my  son," 
said  my  weeping  parent.  My  brother  appeared  a  silent 
spectacle  of  sorrow.  "  I  know  3'ou,  my  child,  too  well  to 
expect  I  can  alter  your  resolution.  It  is  now  too  late  to 
beseech  you  to  reflect.  I  know  3^ou  have  long  reflected, 
and  I  am  astonished  to  find  you  still  determined.  You 
have  a  charming  situation.  Your  prospects  are  good ; 
could  3'ou  but  make  3'our  mind  eas3',  3'ou  might  still  be 
happy.  Wlw,  then,  this  aversion  to  life?"  I  interrupted 
her  b3'  declaring  that  the  whole  world  would  not,  could 
not,  detain  me  longer  in  England ;  3'et  I  passionatel3' 
loved  m3^  countr3^,  and  my  few  remaining  friends  shared 
the  best  aff'ections  of  m3^  heart.  This  voluntary  exile  was 
worse  than  death ;  but  I  was  impelled  to  go,  and  go  I 
must.  M3^  poor  mother  threw  her  fond  arms  about  my 
■neck.     "Once  more,"  said  she,   "3'ou  leave  me,  but  not 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  189 

now  as  before.  Then  you  left  me  in  m}'  native  place  among 
my  natural  connexions  ;  then,  too,  I  had  hope  you  would 
again  be  restored  to  me  ;  but  now  —  "  auvd  she  burst  into 
tears.  M}'  heart  was  agonized.  I  entreated  her  to  con- 
sider me  as  on  the  bed  of  death,  nor  again  to  think  of  me 
as  of  a  living  son.  ^' Be  thankful,  my  mother,  be  thank- 
ful it  is  no  worse  ;  be  thankful  I  have  not  fallen  a  victim 
to  the  despondency  of  m}-  spirit.  I  leave  3'ou  with  3'our 
children,  with  children  kind  and  dutiful ;  and,  what  is  bet- 
ter than  all,  I  leave  you  in  the  hands  and  under  the  care 
of  a  kind  God,  who  hath  said,  '  I  will  never  leave  you  nor 
forsake  you.'"  —  "But  shall  I  hear  from  3'ou,  my  son?" 
—  "  Do  not,  I  entreat  you,  think  of  me  as  living.  I  go  to 
bury  myself  in  the  wilds  of  America.  No  one  shall  hear 
from  me,  nor  of  me.  I  have  done  with  the  world."  And 
prostrating  m3'self  in  the  presence  of  m}-  mother  and  my 
God,  with  streaming  e3'es  and  supplicating  hands  I  com- 
mended my  soul,  and  all  who  were  connected  with  me  or 
allied  to  me,  to  that  Being  who  orders  all  things  according 
to  his  own  good  pleasure. 

I  left  m3^  mother  in  an  agon3"  of  affliction,  and  retired, 
but  not  to  rest.  M3^  baggage  had  been  sent  on  board  ship 
in  the  morning  ;  and,  accompanied  by  m3'  brother,  we  took 
a  boat  and  passed  down  to  Gravesend,  where  I  entered 
on  board  the  vessel  that  was  to  conve3^  me  to  America, 
which,  in  my  then  judgment,  was  tantamount  to  quitting 
the  world. 

The  vessel,  however,  did  not  sail  immediately.  I  had 
an  opportunity  of  going  on  shore  again,  and  spending 
some  time  at  Gravesend.  Fond  of  being  alone,  I 
ascended  a  lofty  eminence  and  sat  me  down  under  the 
•  shade  of  a  wide-spreading  tree  ;  here  I  had  leisure  and 


190  LIFE    OF  REV.  JOHN  MURRAY. 

inclination  for  reflection.  On  one  hand,  I  beheld  the  wide 
ocean,  my  path  to  the  New  World ;  on  the  other,  the 
Thames,  upon  the  silvery  surface  of  which  many  were 
passing  to  London.  My  mind  rapidly  ran  over  the  vari- 
ous scenes  I  had  witnessed  since  my  arrival  in  that  great 
city.  I  dwelt  upon  the  good  I  had  lost,  never  more  to  be 
recovered.  My  soul  sickened  at  the  recollection  of  my 
heav}'  bereavement,  of  the  solitary  situation  to  which  I 
was  reduced.  I  was  going  from  a  world  in  which  I  had 
some  associates,  and  some  friends,  into  a  country  where 
every  individual  was  unknown  to  me.  I  was  going  on 
board  a  vessel,  to  the  crew  of  which  I  was  an  utter 
stranger;  all  gloomy  —  truly  gloomy.  One  idea,  how- 
ever, continued  my  abiding  consolation :  I  might  soon 
finish  my  course,  and  bid  an  eternal  adieu  to  sorrow  of 
every  description.  Yet  I  trembled  at  what  was  before  me. 
I  was  fearful  I  was  wrong. 

Just  at  this  period  the  wind  shifted,  the  signal  was  made 
for  sailing.  But,  before  I  descended  the  eminence,  I  once 
more  threw  my  eyes  upon  the  surrounding  scenes.  I  felt 
destitute  and  forlorn ;  tears  gushed  into  my  eyes.  My 
domestic  felicity  ;  my  social  connections ;  the  pleasure  I 
had  derived  from  listening  to  the  testimony  of  truth, 
—  these  all  rushed  upon  my  recollection  with  subduing 
power.  I  prostrated  myself  upon  the  ground,  with 
streaming  e3^es  exclaiming,  "  O  thou  dear  parent  earth, 
thou  much-loved  native  soil,  why  not  open  and  give  me  a 
quiet  resting-place  in  thy  bosom  ?  O  thou  dear,  departed 
friend  of  my  soul,  hast  thou  no  power  to  loose  these 
chains  that  bind  me  to  this  state  of  being?  Is  there  no 
eye  to  pity,  no  hand  to  help  a  wretched  outcast?  Can  I 
not   be  indulo:ed  with  death?"     But  death  comes  not   at 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  191 

call.  In  this  situation  I  continued,  bedewing  the  earth 
with  m}'  tears,  until  it  pleased  the  kind  God  to  spealv 
peace  to  my  tortured  heart ;  and  I  seemed  to  hear  a  voice 
calling  unto  me,  "Be  of  good  cheer,  your  God  is  with 
you.  He  will  never  leave  3'ou  nor  forsake  3'ou.  He  is  in 
the  wide  waste  as  in  the  full  city.  Be  not  afraid  ;  when 
thou  passest  through  the  waters,  I  will  be  with  thee  :  fear 
no  evil ;  the  friend  of  sinners  will  be  with  thee,  and  make 
thy  way  plain  before  thee.  He  will  cause  the  desert  to 
blossom  as  the  rose.  The  3'oung  lions  crj-,  and  thy  heav- 
enl}'  Father  feedeth  them.  Thou  art  nearer  and  dearer  to 
thy  heavenly  Father  than  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  deep, 
than  all  the  tenants  of  the  forest."  Thus  did  the  spirit  of 
grace  and  consolation  comfort  my  afflicted  heart,  so  that, 
after  bidding  an  affectionate  adieu  to  the  scenes  of  the 
morning  and  meridian  of  my  daj^s ;  after  taking  what  I 
believed  an  eternal  leave  of  my  native  soil,  of  my  friends 
and  relatives  ;  after  dropping  many  tears  to  the  memor}'' 
of  each  ;  and,  last  of  all,  to  the  ashes  of  m}'  dear  self; 
with  an  aching  head,  a  pained  heart,  and  e3'es  swelled  b}^ 
weeping,  on  Saturday  evening,  July  twenty-first,  in  the 
year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  seventj', 
1  hastened  on  board  the  brig  "  Hand-in-hand."  And, 
upon  the  ensuing  morning,  as  we  passed  round  Beach}- 
Head,  I  beheld  the  white  cliffs  of  Albion.  No  language 
can  describe  my  sensations,  as  those  white  cliffs  receded 
from  my  view,  as  1  took  a  last  look  of  England.  I  re- 
tired to  m}^  cabin,  covered  my  face,  and  wept  until  I  was 
corapletel}'  exhausted.  But  God  was  pleased  to  lift  up 
the  light  of  his  countenance  upon  me.  My  vo^-age  passed 
more  pleasantly  than  I  had  calculated ;  and  I  was  the 
happy  instrument  of  contributing  to  the  comfort  of  many 


192  LIFE   OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

on  board.  I  was  not  sick  upon  the  passage.  I  became 
more  than  reconciled  to  my  circumstances,  and  I  almost 
dreaded  the  thought  of  reaching  my  destined  port. 

I  did  not  anticipate  my  fate  upon  my  arrival.  I  had 
determined  upon  nothing,  and  yet  I  was  not  distressed. 
A  perfect  indifference  pervaded  my  soul.  I  had  in  my 
trunks  man}^  articles  of  clothing,  more  than  I  should 
want ;  for  I  did  not  calculate  upon  being  many  years  an 
inhabitant  of  this  globe.  I  had  some  money ;  I  had  my 
Bible,  and  a  very  large  collection  of  the  letters  of  my 
Eliza,  in  which  I  took  much  delight ;  and,  upon  the  whole, 
I  fancied  m3^self  rather  rich  than  otherwise.  In  this  state 
of  resignation,  indifference,  or  insensibility,  I  passed  the 
greater  part  of  the  voj^age. 

As  we  drew  near  the  coast  of  America,  I  experienced 
none  of  those  delightful  sensations  which  swelled  my 
bosom  a  few  years  before,  on  returning  to  England  from 
Ireland  ;  neither  did  I  experience  those  terrifying  appre- 
hensions, for  which  there  was  such  abundant  reason,  on  ad- 
vancing to  an  unknown  country,  without  patron  or  friend. 
M}^  mind  was  calm  and  unruffled,  neither  elated  by  hope 
nor  depressed  by  fear.  I  had  obtained  precisely  that  situa- 
tion for  which  I  had  supplicated  Heaven,  when  entering 
upon  this  untried  state  of  being,  humbly  depending  upon 
that  God  who  was  in  every  place  the  same  unchanging 
friend  of  the  creature  whom  he  had  made.  I  was,  as  it 
were,  between  two  worlds.  One  I  had  tried,  and,  finding  it 
contained  more  of  bitter  than  of  sweet,  I  had  turned  from 
it  with  disgust.  I  advanced  toward  the  other,  without  high- 
raised  expectations,  without  fearful  apprehensions.  I  was 
pleased  with  the  wonders  of  my  God,  as  I  beheld  them  in 
the  great  deep.    I  was  amazed  at  the  variet}'  of  its  inhabi- 


LIFE    OF  REV,    JOHN   MURRAY.  193 

tants  ;  yet  how  small  a  part  could  I  trace  !  I  was  astonished 
at  the  number  of  birds  flitting  over  the  ocean ;  and  I 
thought  if  provision  was  made  for  them  I  had  no  reason 
for  fear.  On  a  brilliant  moonlight  evening  our  ship  struck 
on  something,  which  threw  us  off  our  seats !  What  could 
it  be?  We  were  in  the  centre  of  the  Western  Ocean.  We 
soon  discovered  it  was  a  sleeping  whale.  We  also  beheld 
the  water-spout,  so  often  described  as  a  surprising  phe- 
nomenon. Thus  was  my  wondering  mind  beguiled  of  its 
sorrows.  We  saw  a  number  of  vessels  on  our  way,  some 
passing  to  the  country  we  had  left.  My  heart  sighed  as 
they  pursued  their  course,  and  I  frequently  and  audibly 
exclaimed,  "  Dear  native  countr}-,  never  more  to  be  seen  by 
me  !  "  nor  was  the  exclamation  unaccompanied  by  a  tear. 

We  were,  as  it  was  supposed,  within  three  daj's  of  New 
York,  when  we  met  a  vessel  bound  for  England.  Ourmer 
chant  questioned  the  captain,  respecting  the  state  of  public 
affairs  in  America.  The  Americans  had,  some  time  be- 
fore, entered  into  the  non-importation  agreement,  and  our 
merchant  was  anxious,  on  account  of  the  goods  he  had  on 
board.  The  captain  assured  him  they  had  given  up  the 
agreement  in  Philadelphia,  but  that  they  zealously  adhered 
to  it  in  New  York.  Our  captain,  therefore,  received  im- 
mediate orders  to  change  the  course  of  the  vessel  for  Phila- 
delphia ;  but  when  we  had  got  near  enough  to  this  harbor 
to  take  a  pilot,  the  pilot  informed  us,  the  reverse  of  the  in- 
formation we  had  received  was  the  truth ;  upon  which  the 
merchant  determined  to  go  as  far  as  the  city,  there  obtain 
a  certainty,  and,  if  so,  to  proceed  to  New  York  with  all 
possible  despatch.  We  were  a  considerable  time  passing 
up  the  Delaware,  and,  upon  a  fine  day,  while  we   lay  at 

13 


194  LIFE    OF  EEV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

anchor,  the  merchant  proposed  going  on  shore,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  obtaining  corn  and  fruit. 

It  was  in  the  month  of  September  when  we  arrived  in 
the  Delaware.  The  country  upon  the  banks  of  this  fine 
river  exhibited  a  most  enchanting  appearance,  especially 
to  those  who  had  been  for  many  weeks  out  of  sight  of  land, 
and  had  never  seen  those  shores  before.  As  we  drew  near 
the  land,  the  woods,  seeming  to  grow  out  of  the  water,  had 
to  me  a  very  uncommon  appearance  ;  but  everything  in  this 
country  was  uncommon.  We  went  on  shore,  and  ascend- 
ed a  gentle  acclivity,  when,  entering  into  a  small  log- 
house,  I  was  astonished  to  see  a  woman  preparing  some  ex- 
cellent wild  ducks  for  dinner.  Live  in  a  log-house,  and 
feed  upon  ducks !  We  passed  into  her  garden,  where, 
amid  its  rich  variety,  my  attention  was  arrested  by  a 
large  peach-tree,  loaded  with  the  best  fruit,  bending  to 
the  earth !  I  was  beyond  expression  charmed  and  de- 
lighted, and  my  heart  beat  with  grateful  affection  to  the 
universal  Parent,  for  giving  the  inhabitants  of  this  New 
World  thus  liberally  to  enjoy.  When  we  reached  Philadel- 
phia, I  was  amazed  to  behold  a  city  of  such  magnitude,  in 
a  country  which  I  had  considered  as  a  wilderness.  The 
captain  supposed  it  a  disappointment  to  me  that  we  had 
not  put  into  New  York,  as  that  was  the  place  of  my  desti- 
nation. I  requested  him  to  make  himself  easy,  as  it  was  a 
matter  of  perfect  indifference  to  me  upon  what  part  of  the 
country  I  landed ;  and,  if  he  could  procure  me  a  private 
lodging,  I  would  go  on  shore  in  this  city.  This  he  told  me 
he  would  do  ;  but  this  he  could  not  do,  at  least  in  the  circle 
of  his  connections.  He  then  proposed  my  going  by  land  to 
New  York.  This^also  I  was  willing  to  do,  if  he  would  let 
me  know  how.     He  would  send  and  take  me  a  place  in  the 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN   MURRAY.  195 

stage.  The  stage  bad  been  gone  some  time.  He  then  pro- 
posed I  should  tarry  in  the  vessel  and  set  out  with  him  the 
next  morning  to  New  York  ;  to  which  arrangement  I  agreed. 
The  other  passengers  left  us  in  Philadelphia.  The  water  was 
smooth,  and  our  passage  pleasant,  until  we  were,  as  was 
supposed,  near  Sandy  Hook  ;  a  dense  fog  then  arose,  which 
was  sufficiently  thick  to  prevent  our  seeing  the  end  of  our 
bowsprit.  A  sloop  shot  past  us,  and  we  inquired  how  far  we 
were  from  Sandy  Hook.  The  answer  was  seventy  miles,  but 
we  understood  seven,  and  we  passed  on,  and  in  a  few  moments 
were  in  the  midst  of  the  breakers  ;  the  vessel  struck  upon 
the  bar,  but  passed  over,  into  a  place  we  afterwards  learned 
was  called  Cranberry  Inlet.  The  fog  now  dispersed,  and 
we  discovered  we  were  nearly  on  shore  ;  our  anchors,  how- 
ever, saved  us  ;  but  we  were  greatly  alarmed,  and  never  ex- 
pected to  get  off  again.  The  sloop  with  which  we  had 
spoken  entered  this  inlet  before  us,  and  was  light.  The 
captain  proposed  to  engage  this  sloop  to  receive  on  board 
as  much  of  our  cargo  as  she  could  contain  ;  thus  by  light- 
ening his  vessel  to  give  himself  the  only  probable  chance 
of  getting  off.  This  was  effectuated,  and  night  coming  on 
the  captain,  with  man}-  apologies,  requested  me  to  lodge  on 
board  the  sloop,  inasmuch  as  there  were  many  valuable 
articles,  which  he  was  afraid  to  trust  without  a  confidential 
person.  To  this  I  readily  consented,  and,  taking  my  Bible 
and  my  purse,  I  went  on  board  the  sloop.  The  plan  of  the 
captain  was,  supposing  the  morning  should  present  do  pros- 
pect of  getting  off,  to  deposit  the  remainder  of  his  cargo 
upon  the  beach;  but,  if  they  should  get  off,  we  were  im- 
mediately to  follow  ;  the  goods  were  to  be  replaced  ;  and 
the  sloop  dismissed.  I  went  not  to  bed,  and  when  the 
morning  dawned,  just  at  high  water,  the  wind  blowing  from 


196  LIFE    OF  REV.  JOHN  MURRAY. 

the  shore,  they  got  off,  making  a  signal  for  us  to  follow ; 
and  with  all  possible  despatch  we  prepared  to  obey  ;  but  the 
wind  instantly  shifting  drove  us  back,  and  ih^y  proceeded 
on  to  New  York,  leaving  us  in  the  bay. 

It  proved,  upon  examination,  we  had  no  provisions  on 
board  ;  we  were  therefore  necessitated  to  lock  up  the  vessel, 
and  go  on  shore  in  search  of  sustenance.  It  was  the  after 
part  of  the  da}'  before  we  could  effectuate  our  purpose,  when 
I  went  with  the  boatmen  to  a  tavern,  and,  leaving  them 
there,  pursued  a  solitarj^  walk  through  the  woods,  which 
seemed  to  surround  this  place.  My  mind  was  greatly 
agitated.  I  was  now  in  the  New  World  ;  and  in  just  such 
a  part  of  this  New  "World  as  had  appeared  so  desirable  in 
prospect.  Here  I  was  as  much  alone  as  I  could  wish,  and 
my  heart  exclaimed,  '*  Oil  that  I  had  in  this  wilderness  the 
lodging-place  of  a  poor  wayfaring  man;  some  cave^  some 
grot^  some  place  where  I  might  finish  my  days  in  calm 
repose  !  " 

As  thus  I  passed  along,  thus  contemplating,  thus  sup- 
plicating, I  unexpectedly  reached  a  small  log-house,  and 
saw  a  girl  cleaning  a  fresh  fish.  I  requested  she  would  sell 
it  to  me.  "  No,  sir,  you  will  find  a  very  great  plenty  at  the 
next  house;  we  want  this."  —"The  next  house,  what,  this?" 
pointing  to  one  in  the  woods.  "  Oh,  no,  sir,  that  is  ameet- 
insc-house."  *  A  meetino^-house  here  in  these  woods? 
I  was  exceedingly  surprised.  "  You  must  pass  the  meet- 
ing-house, sir ;  and  a  little  way  farther  on  you  will  see  the 
other  house,  where  j^ou  will  find  fish  enough."  I  went  for- 
ward. I  came  to  the  door ;  there  was  indeed  a  large  pile 
of  fish  of  various  sorts,  and  at  a  little  distance  stood  a  tall 
man,  rough  in  appearance,  and  evidently  advanced  in  years* 

*  Potter  Meeting-house. 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY,  197 

"  Pray,  sir,  will  j^ou  have  the  goodness  to  sell  me  one  of 
those  fish?"  —  "  No,  sir."  —  "  That  is  strange,  when  you 
have  so  many,  to  refuse  me  a  single  fish  !  "  —  *'  I  did  not 
refuse  you  a  fish,  sir.  You  are  welcome  to  as  many  as 
you  please ;  but  I  do  not  sell  this  article.  I  do  not  sell  fish, 
sir.  I  have  them  for  taking  up,  and  you  may  obtain  them 
the  same  way."  I  thanked  him.  ''But,"  said  he,  "what 
do  3'ou  want  of  those  fish?"  I  informed  him  that  the 
mariners,  who  belonged  to  the  sloop  at  a  distance,  were  at 
a  tavern,  and  would  be  glad  if  I  could  procure  them  some- 
thing for  supper.  "Well,  sir,  I  will  send  my  man  over 
with  the  fish ;  but  you  can  tarry  here,  and  have  some 
dressed  for  yourself."  —  "  No,  sir,  it  is  proper  I  should  see 
how  they  are  accommodated."  —  "  Well,  sir,  j^ou  shall  do 
as  3'ou  please  ;  but,  after  supper,  I  heg  jom  would  return, 
and  take  a  bed  with  us  ;  you  will  be  better  pleased  here 
than  at  a  tavern."  I  gratefulh^  thanked  him,  and  cheerfully 
accepted  his  offer.  I  was  astonished  to  see  so  much 
genuine  politeness  and  urbanit}^  under  so  rough  a  form  ; 
but  my  astonishment  was  greatly  increased  on  my  return. 
His  room  was  prepared,  his  fire  bright,  and  his  heart  open, 
"  Come,",  said  he,  "  my  friend,  I  am  glad  3'ou  have  returned. 
I  have  longed  to  see  \'ou  ;  I  have  been  expecting  you  a  long 
time."  I  was  perfectly  amazed.  "  What  do  3'ou  mean, 
sir?" —  "  I  must  go  on  in  m3^  own  wa3\  I  am  a  poor  igno- 
rant man  ;  I  neither  know  how  to  read  nor  write.  I  was 
born  in  these  woods,  and  m3'  father  did  not  think  proper 
to  teach  me  m3^  letters.  I  worked  on  these  grounds  until 
I  became  a  man,  when  I  went  coasting  voyages  from  hence 
to  New  York.  I  was  then  desirous  of  becoming  a  husband  ; 
but,  in  going  to  New  York,  I  was  pressed  on  board  a  man- 
of-war,  and    I  was    taken  in   Admiral   Warren's    ship  to 


198  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

Cape  Breton.  I  never  drank  any  rum,  —  so  they  saved  my 
allowance  ;  but  I  would  not  bear  an  affront,  —  so  if  any  of 
the  officers  struck  me  I  struck  them  again  ;  but  the  admiral 
took  my  part,  and  called  me  his  new-light  man.  When  we 
reached  Louisbourg  I  ran  awa}',  and  travelled  barefooted 
through  the  country,  and  almost  naked  to  New  York,  where 
I  was  known,  and  supplied  with  clothes  and  mone}^,  and 
soon  returned  to  this  place,  when  I  found  ray  girl  married. 
This  rendered  me  very  unhappy,  but  I  recovered  m}^  tran- 
quillity, and  married  her  sister.  I  sat  down  to  work  ;  got 
forward  very  fast ;  constructed  a  saw-mill ;  possessed  my- 
self of  this  farm,  and  five  hundred  acres  of  adjoining  land. 
I  entered  into  navigation,  became  the  owner  of  a  sloop, 
and  have  got  together  a  large  estate.  I  am,  as  I  said,  un- 
able either  to  write  or  read,  but  I  am  capable  of  reflection. 
The  sacred  Scriptures  have  been  often  read  to  me,  from 
which  I  gather  that  there  is  a  great  and  good  Being,  to 
whom  we  are  indebted  for  all  we  enjo\\  It  is  this  great 
and  good  Being,  who  hath  preserved  and  protected  me 
through  innumerable  dangers  ;  and,  as  he  had  given  me  a 
house  of  ni}'  own,  I  conceived  I  could  not  do  less  than  to 
open  it  to  the  stranger,  let  him  be  who  he  would  ;  and 
especiall}^,  if  a  travelling  minister  passed  this  wa}-,  he 
alwa^'s  received  an  invitation  to  put  up  at  m}'  house,  and 
hold  his  meetings  here.  I  continued  this  practice  for  more 
than  seven  j^ears,  and,  illiterate  as  I  was,  I  used  to  con- 
verse with  them,  and  was  fond  of  asking  them  questions. 
They  pronounced  me  an  odd  mortal,  declaring  themselves 
at  a  loss  what  to  make  of  me  ;  while  I  continued  to  affirm, 
that  I  had  but  one  hope :  I  believed  that  Jesus  Christ 
suffered  death  for  my  transgressions,  and  this  alone  was 
sufficient  for    me.     At   length    m}^   wife   grew    weary   of 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  199 

ha^ing  meetings  held  in  her  house,  and  I  determined  to 
build  a  house  for  the  worship  of  God. 

"  I  had  no  children,  and  I  knew  I  was  beholden  to  Almighty- 
God  for  ever^'thing  which  I  possessed  ;  and  it  seemed  right 
I  should  appropriate  a  part  of  what  he  had  bestowed,  for 
his  service.  My  neighbors  offered  their  assistance.  But 
'  No,'  said  I ;  '  God  has  given  me  enough  to  do  this  work 
without  3'our  aid,  and,  as  he  has  put  it  into  my  heart  to  do, 
so  will  I  do.'  — '  And  who,'  it  was  asked,  '  will  be  your 
preacher?'  I  answered,  'God  will  send  me  a  preacher, 
and  of  a  ver}-  different  stamp  from  those  who  have  hereto- 
fore preached  in  my  house.  The  preachers  we  have  heard 
are  perpetually  contradicting  themselves ;  but  that  God, 
who  has  put  it  into  m}^  heart  to  build  this  house,  will  send 
one  who  shall  deliver  unto  me  his  own  truth,  —  who  shall 
speak  of  Jesus  Christ  and  his  salvation.'  When  the  house 
was  finished,  I  received  an  application  from  the  Baptists ; 
and  I  told  them,  if  they  could  make  it  appear  that  God 
Almightj"  was  a  Baptist,  the  building  should  be  theirs  at 
once.  The  Quakers  and  Presbyterians  received  similar 
answers.  '  No,'  said  I,  '  as  I  firmly  believe  that  all  man- 
kind are  equall}^  dear  to  Almighty  God,  the}"  shall  all  be 
equally  welcome  to  preach  in  this  house  which  I  have  built.' 
My  neighbors  assured  me  I  never  should  seje  a  preacher 
whose  sentiments  corresponded  with  my  own ;  but  my 
uniform  repl}"  was,  that  I  assuredly  should.  I  engaged  the 
first  3'ear  with  a  man  whom  I  greatly  disliked.  We  parted, 
and  for  some  years  we  have  had  no  stated  minister.  My 
friends  often  ask  me,  '  Where  is  the  preacher  of  whom  you 
spake?'  And  my  constant  repl}"  has  been,  'He  will  by 
and  by  make  his  appearance.'  The  moment  I  beheld  your 
vessel  on  shore,  it  seemed  as  if  a  voice  had  audibly  sounded 


200  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

in  my  ears,  '  There,  Potter,  in  that  vessel  cast  away  on 
that  shore,  is  the  preacher  you  have  been  so  long  expect- 
ing.' I  heard  the  voice,  and  I  believed  the  report ;  and 
when  you  came  up  to  my  door  and  asked  for  the  fish,  the 
same  voice  seemed  to  repeat,  '  Potter,  this  is  the  man,  this 
is  the  person,  whom  I  have  sent  to  preach  in  3'our  house  !  '  " 

I  was  astonished,  immeasurably  astonished,  at  Mr.  Pot- 
ter's narrative  ;  but  yet  I  had  not  the  smallest  idea  it  could 
ever  be  realized.  I  requested  to  know  what  he  could  discern 
in  my  appearance,  which  could  lead  him  to  mistake  me  for 
a  preacher.  "  What,"  said  he,  "  could  I  discern,  when  you 
were  in  the  vessel,  that  could  induce  this  conclusion?  No, 
sir,  it  is  not  what  I  saw,  or  see,  but  what  I  /eeZ,  which  pro- 
duces in  my  mind  a  full  conviction." 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  you  are  deceived,  indeed  3^ou  are 
deceived.  I  never  shall  preach  in  this  place  nor  anj^where 
else." 

"Have  you  never  preached?  Can  3'ou  say  you  have 
never  preached  ?  " 

"  I  cannot ;  but  I  never  intend  to  preach  again." 

"  Has  not  God  lifted  up  the  light  of  his  countenance 
upon  you?     Has  he  not  shown  you  his  truth?  " 

"  I  trust  he  has." 

"And  haw  dare  you  hide  this  truth?  Do  men  light  a 
candle  to  put  it  under  a  bushel?  If  God  has  shown  3^ou 
his  salvation,  why  should  you  not  show  it  to  your  fellow- 
men  ?  But  I  know  that  you  will.  I  am  sure  God  Almight}^ 
lias  sent  you  to  us  for  this  purpose.  I  am  not  deceived  ;  I 
am  sure  I  am  not  deceived." 

I  was  terrified  as  the  man  tims  went  on  ;  and  I  began  to 
fear  that  God,  who  orders  all  things  according  to  the  coun- 
sel of  his  own  will,  had  ordained  that  thus  it  should  be. 


LIFE   OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  201 

and  my  heart  trembled  at  the  idea.  I  endeavored,  however, 
to  banish  my  own  fears,  and  to  silence  the  warm-hearted 
man,  by  observing  that  I  was  in  the  place  of  a  supercargo  ; 
that  property  to  a  large  amount  had  been  entrusted  to  m}' 
care ;  and  that  the  moment  the  wind  changed  I  was  under 
the  most  solemn  obligations  to  depart. 

"The  wind  will  never  change,  sir,  until  you  have  deliv- 
ered to  us,  in  that  meeting-house,  a  message  from  God." 

Still  I  w^as  resolutely  determined  never  to  enter  any 
pulpii  as  a  preacher.  Yet  being  rendered  truly  unhappy,  I 
begged  I  might  be  shown  to  my  bed.  He  requested  I  would 
pray  with  them,  if  I  had  no  objection.  I  asked  him  how 
he  could  suppose  I  had  any  objection  to  praying.  The 
Quakers,  he  said,  seldom  pra3^ed  ;  and  there  were  others, 
who  visited  him,  w4io  were  not  in  the  habit  of  pra3ing.  "  I 
never  propose  praj-er,  sir,  lest  it  should  not  meet  with  the 
approbation  of  those  with  whom  I  sojourn ;  but  I  am 
always  pleased  when  prayer  is  proposed  to  me."  I  prayed, 
and  my  heart  was  greatly  enlarged  and  softened.  When 
we  parted  for  the  night,  my  kind  host  solemnly  requested 
that  I  would  think  of  what  he  had  said.  Alas  !  he  need 
not  to  have  made  this  request ;  it  was  impossible  to  banish 
it  from  my  mind.  When  I  entered  my  chamber,  and  shut 
the  door,  I  burst  into  tears.  I  would  have  given  the  world 
that  I  had  never  left  England.  I  felt  as  if  the  hand  of  God 
was  in  the  events  which  had  brought  me  to  this  place,  and 
I  prayed  most  ardently  that  God  would  assist  and  direct 
me  by  his  counsel.  I  presented  myself  before  him  as  a 
man  bowed  down  by  calamit}' :  a  melancholy  outcast, 
driven  by  repeated  afflictions  of  body  and  of  mind  to  seek 
refuge  in  private  life  ;  to  seek  solitude  amid  the  wilds  of 
America.     "Thou   knowest,"    said   my  oppressed    spirit, 


202  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY. 

"  thou  knowest,  O  Lord,  that  if  it  had  pleased  thee,  I  would 
have  preferred  death  as  the  safest  and  most  sure  retreat ; 
but  thou  hast  not  seen  fit  to  indulge  my  wishes  in  this 
respect.  In  thy  providence  thou  hast  brought  me  into  this 
New  World.  Thou  seest  how  I  am  oppressed  by  solicita- 
tions to  speak  unto  the  people  the  words  of  life.  Thou 
knowest  that  I  am  not  suflScient  for  these  things.  Thou 
God  of  my  fathers,  thou  God  of  the  stranger,  look  with 
pity  upon  the  poor,  lonely  wanderer  now  before  thee.  O 
thou  that  sittest  in  the  heavens,  and  rulest  in  the  earth,  and 
who  assurest  us  that  a  hair  of  our  head  cannot  fall  unno- 
ticed by  thee  !  —  O  thou  who  kindly  directest  us,  thy  poor, 
dependent  creatures,  to  acknowledge  thee  in  all  their  ways, 
and  to  make  their  requests  known  unto  thee  in  every  time 
of  affliction,  behold  thy  poor  dependant,  supplicating  thee 
for  thy  kind  direction  and  protection  !  If  thou  hast  indeed 
put  it  into  the  heart  of  thy  servant  to  demand  of  me,  the 
meanest  and  weakest  of  all  to  whom  thou  didst  ever  give 
power  to  believe  in  the  name  of  thy  Son,  to  declare  unto 
him  and  the  people  of  this  place  the  gospel  of  thy  grace, 
O  God !  in  mercy  prepare  me,  prepare  me  for  so  vast  an 
undertaking,  and  let  thy  presence  be  with  me.  Strengthen 
me,  O  Lord,  by  thy  mighty  Spirit.  And  if  it  be  not  thy 
pleasure  thus  to  emploj^  me,  —  for  thou,  O  God,  wilt  send 
b}^  whom  thou  wilt  send,  —  graciously  manifest  th}^  will, 
that  so  I  may  not  by  any  means  be  drawn  into  a  snare. 
Thou  art  the  sinner's  friend  ;  thou  art  the  only  friend  I  have. 
To  thee,  O  thou  compassionate  Father  of  my  spirit,  encour- 
aged by  thy  gracious  promises,  I  make  application.  Pity, 
oh,  pity  the  destitute  stranger ;  leave  me  not,  I  most  ear- 
nestly entreat  thee,  to  my  own  direction." 

Thus  did  I  pray,  thus  did  I  weep,  through  the  greater 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  203- 

part  of  the  night ;  dreading  more  than  death,  even  suppos- 
ing death  an  object  of  dread,  the  thought  of  engaging  as  a 
public  character.  On  the  one  hand,  I  discovered  that  if 
there  be  a  ruling  Power,  a  superintending  Providence,  the 
account  given  by  the  extraordinarj'  man  under  whose  roof 
I  reposed,  evinced  its  operation  ;  that,  if  the  heart  of  the 
creature  be  indeed  in  the  hand  of  the  Creator,  it  was  mani- 
fest that  God  had  disposed  the  heart  of  this  man  to  view 
me  as  his  messenger,  sent  for  the  purpose  of  declaring  the 
counsel  of  his  peace  to  his  creatures.  On  the  other 
hand,  I  recollected  that  the  heart  is  deceitful  above  all 
things  ;  that  the  devices  of  the  adversar}^  are  manifold  ;  and 
that,  had  it  been  the  will  of  God  that  I  should  have  become 
a  promulgator  of  the  gospel  of  his  grace,  he  would  have 
qualified  me  for  an  object  of  such  infinite  magnitude.  If  I 
testified  of  Jesus  according  to  the  Scriptures,  I  well  knew 
upon  what  1  must  calculate  :  the  clergy  of  all  denominations 
would  unite  to  oppose  me.  For  I  had  never  met  with  any 
individual  of  that  order,  either  in  the  Church  of  Rome  or 
elsewhere,  who  were  believers  of  the  gospel  that  God 
preached  unto  Abraham,  that  in  Christ  Jesus  all  the  fam- 
lies  of  the  earth  should  be  blessed  ;  nor  did  the}',  as  far  as  I 
had  known,  embrace  the  ministry  of  reconciliation  com- 
mitted unto  the  apostles,  namely,  that  ''  God  was  in  Christ 
reconciling  the  world  unto  himself,  not  imputing  unto  them 
their  trespasses  ;"  nor  did  they  acknowledge  the  restitution 
of  all  things,  testified  by  all  God's  holy  prophets  ever  since 
the  world  began.  To  these  doctrines  I  supposed  clergymen 
in  this,  as  well  as  in  the  country  I  had  left,  united  in  their 
opposition  ;  and,  convinced  that  there  were  no  enemies  in 
the  world  more  powerful  than  the  clergy,  I  trembled  at  the 
thought  of  stemming  the  full  tide  of  their  displeasure.     I 


204  LIFE    OF  EEV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

was  persuaded  that  people  in  general,  being  under  the 
dominion  of  the  clergy,  would  hate  where  they  hated,  and 
report  what  they  reported.  Acquainted  in  some  measure 
with  human  nature  and  with  divine  revelation,  I  was  cer- 
tain that  if  I  appeared  in  the  character  of  a  real  disciple  of 
Christ  Jesus,  —  if  I  dared  to  declare  the  whole  truth  of  God, 
—  all  manner  of  evil  would  be  said  of  me  ;  and,  although  it 
might  be  falsely  said,  while  the  inventor  of  the  slander 
would  be  conscious  of  its  falseJiood,  the  majority  of  those 
who  heard  would  yield  it  credit,  and  I  should  become  the 
victim  of  their  credulit3\ 

I  knew  how  Mr.  Relly  had  suffered  in  England,  and  the 
apostles  in  Judea ;  and,  being  a  believer  in  the  testimony 
of  God,  I  was  assured  if  my  doctrines  were  the  same,  my 
treatment  would  be  similar.  All  this  rose  to  my  view,  and 
the  prospect  was  tremendous.  Thus  I  passed  the  night, 
and  the  ensuing  morning  witnessed  my  indisposition  both 
of  body  and  mind.  My  good  friend  renewed  his  solicita- 
tions. "  Will  you,  sir,  speak  to  me  and  to  my  neighbors 
•of  the  things  which  belong  to  our  peace?"  Seeing  only 
thick  woods,  the  tavern  across  the  field  excepted,  I  re- 
quested to  know  what  he  meant  by  neighbors.  "  O  sir, 
we  assemble  a  large  congregation  whenever  the  meeting- 
house is  opened  ;  indeed,  when  my  father  first  settled  here, 
he  was  obliged  to  go  twenty  miles. to  grind  a  bushel  of 
corn  ;  but  there  are  now  more  than  seven  hundred  inhabi- 
tants within  that  distance."  I  was  amazed  ;  indeed,  every- 
thing I  saw  and  everj^thing  I  heard  amazed  me.  Nothing, 
except  the  religion  of  the  people,  resembled  what  I  had 
left  behind. 

My  mind  continued  subjected  to  the  most  torturing  re- 
flections.  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  yield  to  the  entreaties 


LIFE    OF  REV.   JOHN  MURRAY.  20o 


of  Mr.  Potter,  and  still  I  urged  the  necessity  of  departing 
the  moment  the  wind  would  answer.  Mr.  Potter  was  posi- 
tive the  wind  would  not  change  until  I  had  spoken  to  the 
people.  Most  ardently  did  1  desire  to  escape  the  importu- 
nities of  this  good  man.  The  idea  of  a  crowd,  making  a 
public  exhibition  of  myself,  was  to  m}"  desolate,  woe-worn 
mind  intolerable  ;  and  the  suspense  in  which  I  was  held 
was  perfectly  agonizing.  I  could  not  forbear  acknowledg- 
ing an  uncommon  coincidence  of  circumstances ;  the 
hopes  and  fears  of  this  honest  man,  so  long  in  operation ; 
3'et  he  evinced  great  warmth  of  disposition,  and  was  evi- 
dently tinctured  with  enthusiasm  ;  but,  after  making  every 
allowance  for  these  propensities,  it  could  not  be  denied  that 
an  overruling  Power  seemed  to  operate  in  an  unusual  and 
remarkable  manner.  I  could  not  forbear  looking  back  upon 
the  mistakes  made  during  our  passage,  even  to  the  coming 
in  to  this  particular  inlet,  where  no  vessel  of  the  size  of  the 
brig  "  Hand-in-hand,'*  had  ever  before  entered  ;  every  cir- 
cumstance contributed  to  bring  me  to  this  house.  Mr. 
potter's  address  on  seeing  me,  his  assurance  that  he  knew 
I  was  on  board  the  vessel  when  he  saw  her  at  a  distance, 
—  all  these  considerations  pressed  with  powerful  conviction 
on  my  mind,  and  I  was  ready  to  say.  If  God  Almighty 
has,  in  his  providence,  so  ordered  events  as  to  bring  me 
into  this  countr}^  for  the  purpose  of  making  manifest  the 
savor  of  his  name,  and  of  bringing  many  to  the  knowledge 
of  the  truth ;  though  I  would  infinitely  prefer  death  to 
entering  into  a  character  which  will  subject  me  to  what  is 
infinitely  worse  than  death ;  yet,  as  the  issues  of  life  and 
death  are  not  under  my  direction,  am  I  not  bound  to  submit 
to  the  dispensations  of  Providence?  I  wished,  however,  to 
be  convinced  that  it  was    the  will  of  God  that  I  should 


206  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX   MURRAY. 

step  forth  in  a  character  which  would  be  considered  as 
obnoxious,  as  truly  detestable.  I  was  fully  convinced  it 
was  not  by  the  will  of  the  flesh,  nor  by  the  will  of  the 
world,  nor  b^^  the  will  of  the  god  of  this  world ;  all  these 
were  strongly  opposed  thereto.  One  moment,  I  felt  m}- 
resolution  give  way ;  the  path  pointed  out  seemed  to 
brighten  upon  me  ;  but  the  next,  the  difficulties  from  within 
and  without  obscured  the  prospect,  and  I  relapsed  into  a 
firm  resolution  to  shelter  myself  in  solitude  from  the 
hopes,  and  fears,  and  the  various  contentions  of  men. 

While  I  thus  balanced,  the  Sabbath  advanced.  I  had 
ventured  to  implore  the  God  who  had  sometimes  conde- 
scended to  indulge  individuals  with  tokens  of  his  approba- 
tion, graciously  to  indulge  me,  upon  this  important 
occasion  ;  and  that,  if  it  were  his  will,  I  should  obtain  the 
desire  of  my  soul,  by  passing  through  life  in  a  private 
character.  If  it  were  not  his  will  that  I  should  engage  as 
a  preacher  of  the  ministry  of  reconciliation,  he  would 
vouchsafe  to  grant  me  such  a  wind  as  might  bear  me  from 
this  shore  before  the  return  of  another  Sabbath.  I  deter- 
mined to  take  the  changing  of  the  wind  for  an  answer  ;  and, 
had  the  wind  changed,  it  would  have  borne  on  its  wings  full 
conviction,  because  it  would  have  corresponded  with  my 
wishes.  But  the  wind  changed  not,  and  Saturda}^  morning 
arrived.  "  Well,"  said  ni}^  anxious  friend,  "  now  let  me  give 
notice  to  my  neighbors."  —  "  No,  sir,  not  yet ;  should  the 
wind  change  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  I  must  depart." 
No  tongue  can  tell,  nor  heart  conceive,  how  much  I  suffered 
this  afternoon  ;  but  the  evening  came  on,  and  it  was  neces- 
sary I  should  determine  ;  and  at  last,  with  much  fear  and 
trembling,  I  yielded  a  reluctant  consent.  Mr.  Potter  then 
immediately  despatched  his  servants,  on  horseback,  to  spread 


i 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MUBRAT.  207 

the  intelligence  far  and  wide,  and  they  were  to  continue 
their  information  until  ten  in  the  evening. 

I  had  no  rest  through  the  night.  What  should  I  sa}',  or 
how  address  the  people?  Yet  I  recollected  the  admonition 
of  our  Lord  :  "  Take  no  thought  what  you  shall  say ;  it 
shall  be  given  you,  in  that  same  hour,  what  you  shall  say." 
Ay,  but  this  promise  was  made  to  his  disciples.  Well,  by 
this,  I  shall  know  if  I  am  a  disciple.  If  God,  in  his  provi- 
dence, is  committing  to  me  a  dispensation  of  the  gospel,  he 
will  furnish  me  with  matter,  without  ray  thought  or  care. 
If  this  thing  be  not  of  God,  he  will  desert  me,  and  this  shall 
be  another  sign  ;  on  this,  then,  I  rested.  Sunday  morning 
succeeded;  my  host  was  in  transports.  I  was  —  I  cannot 
describe  how  I  was.  I  entered  the  house  ;  it  was  neat  and 
convenient,  expressive  of  the  character  of  the  builder. 
There  were  no  pews ;  the  pulpit  was  rather  in  the  Quaker 
mode ;  the  seats  were  constructed  with  backs,  room}^,  and 
even  elegant.  I  said  there  were  no  pews ;  there  was  one 
large  square  pew,  just  before  the  pulpit ;  in  this  sat  the  ven- 
erable man  and  his  family,  particular  friends,  and  visiting 
strangers.  In  this  pew  sat,  upon  this  occasion,  this  happy 
man,  and,  surely,  no  man  upon  this  side  of  heaven  was  ever 
more  completely  happy.  He  looked  up  to  the  pulpit  with 
eyes  sparkling  with  pleasure ;  it  appeared  to  him,  as  the 
fulfilment  of  a  promise  long  deferred  ;  and  he  reflected,  with 
abundant  consolation,  on  the  strong  faith  which  he  had 
cherished,  while  his  associates  would  tauntingly  question, 
"  Well,  Potter,  where  is  this  minister  who  is  to  be  sent  to 
you  ?  "  —  *'  He  is  coming  along  in  God's  own  good  time."  — • 
*'  And  do  you  still  believe  any  such  preacher  will  visit 
you  ?  "  —  "  Oh,  yes,  assuredl3\"  He  reflected  upon  all  this, 
and  tears  of  transport  filled  his  eyes  ;  he  looked  round  upon 


208  LIFE    OF  EEV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

the  people,  and  every  feature  seemed  to  say,  ''There,  what 
think  you  now?  "  When  I  returned  to  his  house,  he  caught 
me  in  his  arms.*  '^  Now,  now,  I  am  willing  to  depart.  O  ray 
God  I  I  will  praise  thee  ;  thou  hast  granted  me  my  desire. 
After  this  truth  I  have  been  seeking,  but  I  have  never  found 
it  until  now.  I  knew  that  God,  who  put  it  into  my  heart 
to  build  a  house  for  his  worship,  would  send  a  servant  of 
his  own  to  proclaim  his  own  gospel.  I  knew  he  would  ;  I 
knew  the  time  was  come,  when  I  saw  the  vessel  grounded ; 
I  knew  you  were  the  man,  when  I  saw  j^ou  approach  my 
door,  and  my  heart  leaped  for  J03'."  Visitors  poured  into 
the  house  ;  he  took  each  by  the  hand.  "  This  is  the  hap- 
piest day  of  my  life,"  said  the  transported  man.  "There, 
neighbors,  there  is  the  minister  God  promised  to  send  me. 
How  do  3'ou  like  God's  minister?  "  I  ran  from  the  compan}^, 
and,  prostrating  myself  before  the  throne  of  grace,  besought 
my  God  to  take  me,  and  do  with  me  whatever  he  pleased. 
"  I  am,"  said  I,  "  I  am,  O  Lord  God,  in  thine  hand,  as  clay 
in  the  hand  of  the  potter.  If  thou,  in  thy  providence,  hast 
brought  me  into  this  New  AYorld  to  make  known  unto  this 
people  the  grace  and  the  blessings  of  the  new  covenant ;  if 
thou  hast  thought  proper,  b}^  making  choice  of  so  weak  an 
instrument,  to  confound  the  wise  ;  if  thou  hast  been  pleased 
to  show  to  a  babe,  possessing  neither  wisdom  nor  prudence, 
what  thou  hast  hid  from  the  wise  and  prudent,  —  be  it  so, 
O  Father,  for  so  it  seemeth  good  in  thy  sight.  But,,0  my 
merciful  God !  leave  me  not,  I  beseech  thee,  for  a  single 
moment ;  for  without  thee  I  can  do  nothing.  Oh,  make  thy 
strength  perfect  in  my  weakness,  that  the  world  may  see 
that  thine  is  the  power,  and  that,  therefore,  thine  ought  to 
be  the  glory."  Thus  my  heart  prayed,  while  supplicating 
tears  bedewed  m}"  face. 


LIFE    OF  nEV.    JOHN   MURRAY,  209 

I  felt,  however,  relieved  and  tranquillized,  for  I  had 
power  given  me  to  trust  in  the  Lord,  to  stay  upon  the  God 
of  my  salvation.  Immediately  upon  m}'  return  to  the 
company,  my  boatmen  entered  the  house.  '•  The  wind  is 
fair,  sir."  — ''  "VVell,  then,  we  will  depart.  It  is  late  in  the 
afternoon,  but,  no  matter,  I  will  embark  directly.  I  have 
been  determined  to  embrace  the  first  opportunity,  well 
knowing  the  suspense  the  captain  must  be  in  and  the 
pain  attendant  thereon."  Accordingl}^,  as  soon  as  matters 
could  be  adjusted,  I  set  off;  but  not  till  my  old  friend, 
taking  me  b}^  the  hand,  said,  "  You  are  now  going  to  New 
York.  I  am  afraid  you  will,  when  there,  forget  the  man 
to  whom  your  Master  sent  j'ou.  But,  I  do  beseech  you, 
come  back  to  me  again  as  soon  as  possible." 

The  tears  gushed  into  his  e^'es,  and,  regarding  me  with 
a  look  indicative  of  the  strongest  affection,  he  threw  his 
arms  around  me,  repeating  his  importunities  that  I  would 
not  unnecessarily  delay  m}'  return.  I  was  greatl}^  affected, 
reiterating  the  strongest  assurances  that  I  would  conform 
to  his  wishes.  "  Wh}^  should  I  not?"  said  I.  '•  What  is 
there  to  prevent  me?  I  do  not  know  an  individual  in  New 
York.  No  one  knows  me.  What  should  induce  me  to 
tarry  there?"  —  ''Ah,  m}'  friend,"  said  he,  "  3'ou  will  find 
many  in  New  York  who  will  love  and  admire  3'ou,  and 
they  will  wish  to  detain  3'ou  in  that  city.  But  3'ou  have 
promised  3'ou  will  return,  and  I  am  sure  3'OU  will  perform 
3'our  promise.  And  in  the  mean  time  ma3^  the  God  of 
heaven  be  with  you."  Unable  to  reply,  I  hurried  from  his 
door ;  and,  on  entering  the  vessel,  I  found  the  good  old 
man  had  generously  attended  to  what  had  made  no  part 
of  m3'  care,  b3'  making  ample  provision  both  for  me  and 
the  boatmen  during  our  little  voyage. 
14 


210  LIFE    OF  REV,    JOHN  MURRAY. 

I  retired  to  the  cabin.  I  had  leisure  for  serious  reflec- 
tions, and  serious  reflections  crowded  upon  rae.  I  was 
astonished,  I  was  lost  in  wonder,  in  love,  and  praise.  I 
saw,  as  evidently  as  I  could  see  any  object  visibly  ex- 
hibited before  me,  that  the  good  hand  of  God  was  in  all 
these  things.  "It  is,"  I  spontaneouslj'  exclaimed,  "it  is 
the  Lord's  doings,  and  it  is  marvellous  in  my  eyes."  It 
appeared  to  me  that  I  could  trace  the  hand  of  God  in 
bringing  me  through  a  long  chain  of  events,  to  such  a 
place,  to  such  a  person,  so  evidently  prepared  for  my  re- 
ception. And,  w^hile  I  acknowledged  the  will  of  God 
manifested  respecting  my  public  character,  I  at  the  same 
moment  distinguished  the  kindness  of  God  evinced  by  his 
indulging  me  with  a  retirement  so  exactly  suited  to  my 
wishes.  The  house  was  neat,  the  situation  enchanting ;  it 
was  on  the  margin  of  the  deep,  on  the  side  of  an  extensive 
ba}',  which  abounded  with  fish  of  every  description,  and  a 
great  variety  of  water-fowd.  On  the  other  side  of  this 
dwelling,  after  passing  over  a  few  fields  (which  at  that 
time  stood  thick  with  corn),  venerable  woods,  that  seemed 
the  coevals  of  time,  presented  a  "  scene  for  contemplation 
fit,  towering,  majestic,  and  filling  the  devotional  mind  with 
a  religious  awe."  I  reflected,  therefore,  with  augmenting 
gratitude  to  my  heavenly  Father  upon  the  pressing  invita- 
tion he  had  put  into  the  heart  of  his  faithful  servant  to 
give  me.  And  I  determined  to  hasten  back  to  this  de- 
lightful retreat,  where  nothing  but  the  grandeur  of  simple 
nature  exhibited  in  the  surrounding  objects,  and  the  gen- 
uine operations  of  the  divine  Spirit  on  the  heart  of  the 
hospitable  master,  awaited  my  approach.* 

♦"Cranberry  Inlet,"  says  Rev.  A.  C.  Thomas,  in  an  account  of  a  visit  to 
Good  Luck,  "  was  situated  about  sixty  miles  east  of  Philadelphia.    I  say  wa% 


LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  211 

I  had  not  the  least  idea  of  tarrying  in  New  York  a 
moment  longer  than  to  see  the  captain,  deliver  up  my 
charge,  and  receive  my  baggage  ;  and  I  resolved  to  return 
by  the  first  opportunit}^  to  my  benevolent  friend.  And 
thus  did  I  make  up  m}^  mind  :  "  Well,  if  it  be  so,  I  am 
grateful  to  God  that  the  business  is  thus  adjusted.  If  I 
must  be  a  promulgator  of  these  glad,  these  vast,  3'et  ob- 
noxious tidings,  I  shall,  however,  be  sheltered  in  the 
bosom  of  friendship,  in  the  bosom  of  retirement.  I  will 
•omploy  mj^self  on  the  grounds  of  my  friend,  thus  earning 


—  for  it  was  entirely  filled  up  with  sand  many  years  ago,  and  the  beach  is  now 
as  high  at  that  place  as  at  any  other  in  the  vicinity,  though  not  so  wide. 

"  I  visited  the  house  in  Avhich  Potter  lived  and  died.  It  is  situated  less  than 
half  a  mile  east  of  Good  Luck.  An  addition  has  been  built  to  it,  and  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  whole  exterior  is  changed;  but  the  interior  remains  as  it  was 
in  the  days  of  Potter.  It  is  a  plain,  substantial  building.  I  have  been  invited 
to  make  it  my  home  when  next  I  visit  the  neighborhood. 

'•  The  meeting-house  stands  in  the  edge  of  a  beautiful  wood.  The  exterior 
presents  an  aged  appearance ;  but  the  interior,  constructed  of  the  best  cedar, 
manifests  no  signs  of  decay.  The  '  large  square  pew  '  (of  which  Murray 
speaks),  long  occupied  by  Potter  and  his  family,  was  removed  about  a  year  ago, 
and  plain  benclies  substituted.  The  pulpit  has  been  somewhat  cut  down  at 
either  end.  In  other  respects  the  building  remains  in  its  original  state.  It  was 
left  by  will  to  John  Murray,  for  the  use  of  all  denominations.  By  the  mis- 
management of  the  executor,  it  became  necessary  to  sell  a  part  of  the  estate  to 
pay  certain  demands  against  it,  —  of  the  injustice  of  which,  however,  the  heirs 
•entertained  no  doubt.  In  disposing  of  the  property  contiguous  to  Good  Luck, 
no  reservation  of  the  meeting-house  was  made  in  the  deed.  It  was  subse- 
quently purchased  by  the  Methodist  society,  who  have  it  now  in  possession. 
Should  they  hereafter  evince  an  exclusive  spirit  in  relation  to  its  occupancy, 
their  title  may  justly  be  called  in  question. 

"  Thomas  Potter  died  nearly  forty  years  ago.  His  grave,  at  the  east  end  of 
the  meeting  hou«e,  was  pointed  out  to  me  by  one  of  the  oldest  inhabitants  in 
the  neighborhood.  Owing  to  inattention 'and  the  sandy  nature  of  the  soil,  it 
was  long  ago  levelled  with  the  ailjacent  ground.  It  was  enclosed  soon  after  his 
burial ;  but  the  fence  was  broken  down  some  twenty  years  ago,  and  two  posts 
and  a  rail,  very  much  decayed,  are  all  that  remain.  The  oak  of  which  Murray 
speaks  ('  Sketches,'  vol.  i.  p.  336)  no  longer  exists.  I  have  obtained  permission 
sto  re-enclose  the  grave,  and  erect  a  tombstone  to  his  memory."  —  T.  W. 


212  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

my  own  support,  and  health  will  be  a  concomitant ;  while 
I  will  preach  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation  free  as  the 
light  of  heaven."  The  business  thus  arranged,  I  became 
reconciled  to  the  will  of  the  Almighty ;  and  I  commenced, 
with  tolerable  composure,  another  and  very  important 
stage  of  my  various  life.* 

*  Through  the  kind  efforts  of  Rev.  Richard  Eddy,  of  Franklin,  Mass.,  we  are 
enabled  to  state  that  the  date  of  Murray's  first  sermon  in  the  Potter  Church  and 
therefore  in  America,  was  Sunday,  September  30,  1770.— G.  L.  D. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

BECORD    CONTINUED    FROM    THE    SEPTEMBER     OF    1770    TO    THE 
WINTER    OF     1774. 

*'  Armed  with  the  sword  of  Jesse's  youthful  son, 
Engaged  with  ardor  in  the  freedom  won 
By  Christ,  the  anointed  God  of  earth  and  heaven, 
Dare,  nobly,  Murray,  tell  the  boon  that's  given." 

Motto  by  a  Friend. 

Behold  me  now  entering  upon  a  new  stage  of  the 
journe}-  of  life,  a  professed  preactier  of  the  gospel.  Of 
my  inability  for  an  undertaking  so  vast,  I  retained  a  con- 
tinued and  depressing  sense.  But  I  determined  to  be  as 
consistent  and  as  useful  as  possible.  I  would  be  an 
assistant  to  my  new  friend  in  his  agricultural  and  fishing 
employments  ;  and,  upon  every  returning  Sunday,  I  would 
preach  to  him  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.  I  had  not  the 
most  remote  idea  of  ever  preaching  anywhere  but  in  the 
house  which  he  had  built ;  and  thus  I  should  questionless 
be  indulged  with  the  retirement  which  had  been  the  prime 
object  of  mj"  vo3'age.  Thus  consolatory  were  my  reflec- 
tions upon  my  passage  to  New  York,  —  at  which  place  I 
arrived  about  noon  upon  the  ensuing  day.  I  inquired  for 
the  captain,  delivered  up  my  charge,  took  my  baggage 
from  the  brig  "  Hand-in-hand,"  and  secured  a  lodging 
until  I  could  obtain  a  passage  back  to  the  hospitable  man- 
sion I  had  left.  But  the  day  had  not  closed  in  before  a 
number  of  persons   visited  me,  earnestly  soliciting  me  to 

213 


214  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOnX   MURRAY. 

speak  to  them  of  the  things  of  the  kingdom  I  was  im- 
measurabl}^  astonished ;  totalh'  a  stranger  in  the  city  I 
could  scarcely  believe  I  was  not  in  a  dream.  The  boat- 
men, however,  having  given  an  account  of  me  on  their 
arrival,  the  intelligence  was  wafted  from  one  end  of  the 
city  unto  the  other.  And  the  people,  being  anxious  to 
hear  something  new,  and  from  a  new  preacher,  became 
extremely  importunate.  I  could  not  deny  that  I  had 
preached  ;  but  I  gave  the  solicitors  to  understand  that  I 
had  absolutel}^  engaged  to  return  by  the  first  opportunity^, 
and  that,  of  course,  I  was  not  at  libert}"  to  comply  with 
their  request.  The}^  promised  the}^  would  insure  me  a 
speedy  and  eligible  conve3'ance,  if  I  would  consent  to  give 
them  a  discourse  in  the  Baptist  meeting-house  ;  and  it  be- 
came impossible  to  resist  their  persuasions.  The  house 
was  thronged,  and  the  hearers  so  well  satisfied,  as  to 
solicit  most  earnestly  my  continuance  among  them.  But 
this  I  was  not  disposed  to  do.  This  I  could  not  do.  My 
M'ord,  my  honor,  was  engaged  to  v[\y  first  American  friend ; 
and,  when  duty  is  seconded  by  inclination,  perseverance 
becomes  a  matter  of  course.  Upwards  of  a  week  elapsed 
before  the  earnestl}'  soiight-for  passage  presented,  during 
which  period  I  frequently  preached,  and  to  crowded 
houses.  I  was  gratified  b}'  the  marked  attention  of  many 
characters.  Novelt}^  is  rarely  destitute  of  attraction. 
Even  the  minister  extended  to  me  the  hand  of  apparent 
friendship,  which  I  accounted  for  upon  a  supposition  that 
he  was  ignorant  of  m}^  testimon3^  I  made  use  of  the 
same  Scriptures  which  he  made  use  of;  and  he  was  not 
apprised  that  I  yielded  them  unqualified  credence.  I  had 
no  doubt  that  so  soon  as  he  should  be  informed  that  I 
believed  what  I  delivered,  he  would  condemn  as  much  as 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MUIiRAY.  215 

lie  now  appeared  to  approve.  Yet  some  few  there  were, 
firm,  unchanging  friends,  whose  attachment  to  me  and  my 
testimony  has  to  this  moment  continued  unbroken.  So 
soon  as  an  opportunity  to  return  presented,  I  verj^  cheer- 
fully embraced  it ;  and  I  felt  m^'  heart  bound  with  pleas- 
ure at  the-  thought  of  that  meeting  which  a  few  daj's  be- 
fore I  would  have  died  to  avoid.  The  charming  retreat, 
in  the  gift  of  m^^  friend,  was,  in  my  estimation,  highly 
preferable  to  New  York,  and  all  which  it  could  bestow ; 
and  I  longed  most  earnestly  to  quit  the  one  and  to  return 
to  the  other.  A  number  of  friends  accompanied  me  to  the 
^^essel,  and  we  parted  with  expressions  of  regret.  A 
single  da}'  produced  me  again  in  the  abode  of  genuine, 
Christian  friendship,  to  which  I  was  welcomed  with  every 
demonstration  of  heart- felt  joy. 

Here,  then,  I  cousidered  I  had  found  a  permanent  home ; 
that  a  final  period  was  at  length  put  to  my  wanderings ; 
and,  after  all  m}'  apprehensive  dread,  from  being  drawn 
into  the  public  character,  now  that  I  had  a  prospect  of 
sustaining  this  public  character  in  so  private  a  manner,  I 
was  not  only  reconciled,  but  tranquillized  and  happ3^  I  had 
leisure  to  retrospect  my  past  life,  and  I  was  filled  with  aston- 
ishment when  I  beheld  all  the  various  paths  which  I  had 
trod,  ultimately  leading  me  to  a  uniform  contemplation  of 
redeeming  love  ;  nor  could  I  forbear  exclaiming,  "  Great  and 
marvellous  are  thy  works.  Lord  God  Almight}' !  Just  and 
true  are  tln^  ways,  O  thou  King  of  saints !  " 

The  winter  now  approached,  and  with  hasty  strides ;  my 
worthy  friend  was  diligently  gathering  in  the  fruits  of  the 
earth.  I  was  disposed  to  aid  him,  to  the  utmost  of  my 
abilities.  He  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  my  laboring  in 
the  field.     "Why  need  you?     Have  3'ou  not   enough   to 


216  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY. 

engage  your  attention,  in  the  business  on  which  you  are 
sent?" —  "  Believe  me,  my  friend,  my  employment  in  your 
field  will  not  interrupt  my  reflections.  I  can  study  better 
in  the  field  than  in  my  chamber.  It  requires  but  little 
study  to  deliver  simple,  plain,  gospel  truth  ;  to  pervert  this 
truth  requires  a  vast  deal  of  worldly  wisdom.  Let  me,  my 
dear  sir,  do  as  I  please.  I  have  fixed  upon  a  plan,  with 
which  you  shall  be  acquainted,  when  the  labors  of  the  daj^ 
are  closed."  In  the  evening,  when  the  cheerful  fire  blazed 
upon  the  health,  and  we  were  seated  in  the  well-lighted 
parlor,  "  Come,"  said  the  good  man,  "  now  for  your 
plan." —  "  I  think,  m^^  dear  sir,"  said  I,  "  I  am  at  length 
convinced  that  God  in  his  providence  has  thought  proper 
to  appoint  me,  however  unworthy,  to  the  ministry  of  the 
New  Testament ;  and  while  persuaded  that  our  common 
Father  has  committed  a  dispensation  of  the  gospel  to  me, 
and  that  a  woe  is  pronounced  against  me  if  I  preach  it  not, 
it  will  be  impossible  I  should  remain  silent ;  but  knowing, 
as  I  do,  something  of  the  nature  of  man,  and  of  the  situa- 
tion of  preachers  in  general,  I  am  for  myself  determined 
not  to  make  a  gain  of  godliness  ;  I  will  make  no  provision 
for  myself.  I  have  abundance  of  clothing,  and  as  to  food 
I  will  eat  of  whatever  is  set  before  me,  asking  no  questions 
either  for  the  sake  of  conscience  or  appetite  ;  and  for  m}' 
drink,  nothing  is  so  salutary-  for  me  as  cold  water.  I  am 
persuaded  I  shall  not  live  long  in  this  world  ;  at  least  I 
hope  I  shall  not.  I  am  alone  in  the  world.  I  shall 
want  but  little  here,  '  nor  want  that  little  long.'  I 
reject  then,  with  m}^  whole  soul,  I  reject,  the  liberal 
offer  you  so  recently  made  me,  of  a  fixed  stipend. 
I  will  have  no  salary,  I  will  have  no  collections,  I  will 
preach    the  gospel  freely.     I    will    work  in  your  fields,  I 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  217 

will  eat  at  3'our  table,  I  will  slake  m}-  thirst  at  the  limpid 
stream  which  furnishes  \o\\y  family  ;  but  you  shall  make  no 
change  in  the  order  of  your  house  on  my  account.  I  will 
associate  with  your  associates.  I  expect  to  meet  them  at 
the  table  of  m}'  great  Lord  and  Master  in  mansions  be^^ond 
the  grave  ;  and  shall  I  hesitate  to  meet  them  upon  equal 
terms  in  this  lower  world?  I  am  pleased  with  3'our  situa- 
tion ;  with  3'our  house  of  worship  ;  with  3'our  neighbors ; 
with  ever3'thing  I  am  pleased.  And  if  that  God  who 
brought  me  hither  will  graciousl3'  vouchsafe  to  indulge  me 
with  the  privilege  of  tanying  here  until  I  am  liberated 
from  this  bod3^  of  sin  and  death,  I  shall  be  still  better 
pleased." 

The  good  old  man  could  no  longer  suppress  his  feelings. 
He  arose  from  his  seat,  caught  me  in  his  arms,  essa3'ed  to 
speak,  paused,  and  at  length  exclaimed,  "  O  ray  God,  is  it 
possible?  Wh3",  such  I  have  thought  ministers  of  Jesus 
Christ  ought  to  be." —  ''  But,  m3'  friend,"  I  replied,  "  ever3^ 
minister  of  Jesus  Christ  cannot  live  as  I  can.  I  have  no 
famil3',  no  home,  no  want.  If  I  had  a  famih',  I  should  be 
worse  than  an  infidel  not  to  make  provisions  for  my  house- 
hold ;  but  God,  b3^  separating  me  from  m3'  beloved  compan- 
ion and  my  cherub  bo3^  has  enabled  me  to  preach  the 
gospel  freety."  I  never  saw  an3'  man  so  delighted,  and 
especially  with  my  determination  to  continue  with  him. 
Dear,  kind-hearted  man  !  both  he  and  I  then  believed  that 
death  onl3^  could  separate  us.  In  a  place  so  remote  from 
the  world,  I  imagined  I  should  enjoy,  uninterruptedl3^  ever3' 
wish  of  m3'  heart ;  and  again  and  again  I  felicitated  m3'self  in 
the  prospect  of  finishing  m3'  wear3'  life  in  this  sweet,  this 
calm  retreat,  unincumbered  b3'  care,  conferring  as  well  as 
receiving  benefits,  nobl3'  independent,  possessing  all  which 


218  LIFE    OF  liEV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

the  treacherous  world  could  now  bestow.  Thus  I  went  on, 
—  pleased  and  pleasing.  I  had  leisure  for  converse  with 
myself,  with  1113^  Bible,  and  my  God.  The  letters  of  my 
Eliza  were  a  source  of  mournfully  pensive  consolation,  — 
the}'  were  multiplied,  —  and  I  had  carefully  preserved  them. 
;^[any  a  time  have  I  shed  over  them  the  private,  the  mid- 
night tear ;  and  reading  them  thus  late,  when  I  had  fallen 
into  a  sweet  slumber,  I  have  met  the  lovely  author  in  my 
dreams,  and  our  meeting  has  been  replete  with  consolation, 
with  such  high  intercourse  as  can  oxAy  be  realized  in 
heaven.  Our  Sundays  were  indeed  blessed  holy  days ; 
people  began  to  throng  from  all  quarters  on  horseback,  — 
some  from  the  distance  of  twenty  miles.  I  was  at  first 
pleased  with  this  ;  so  was  my  patron  ;  but  multiplied  invi- 
tations to  visit  other  places  saddened  our  spirits.  I 
dreaded  the  thought  of  departing  from  home,  and,  in  the 
fulness  of  my  heart,  I  determined  I  would  never  accede  to 
an}'  request,  which  should  bear  me  from  a  seclusion*  so 
completely  commensurate  with  my  wishes.  Alas  !  alas ! 
how  little  do  we  know  of  ourselves  or  our  destination  !  So- 
licitations, earnest  solicitations,  poured  in  from  the  Jerseys, 
from  Philadelphia,  and  from  New  York ;  and  it  became 
impossible  to  withstand  their  repeated  and  imposing 
energy. 

The  first  visit  I  made  was  to  a  village  about  eight  miles 
from  my  late-found  home.  My  patron  accompanied  me, 
and  we  were  joyfully  received  by  a  serious  and  respectable 
family,  who  embraced  with  devout  hearts  the  truth  as  it  is 


*  Thomas  Potter  died  not  far  from  the  year  1790.  The  feelings  of  Mr.  Murray 
in  visiting  this  retreat  after  the  death  of  that  highly  benevolent  individual,  and 
his  account  of  the  character  of  his  friend,  may  be  found  in  brackets  in  the 
seventh  chapter  of  this  work. — T.  W. 


LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN   MURRAY.  219 

in  Jesus  ;  and  who  were  consequent!}^  saved  from  all  those 
torturing  fears  that  had  previously  harrowed  up  their 
spirits,  in  the  dread  expectation  of  those  everlasting  burn- 
ings which  thc}-  believed  awaited  themselves  and  their 
offspring. 

In  this  villaoje  I  one  mornino-  entered  a  house  and  beheld 
a  fond  mother  weeping  over  an  infant,  who  la}^  sweetly 
sleeping  in  her  arms.  Sympathy  for  the  sorrowing  mother 
moistened  my  ej^e  ;  and,  supposing  that  her  tears  flowed 
from  some  domestic  distress,  or  pecuniar}^  embarrassment, 
I  endeavored  to  console  her  b}-  observing  that  the  world 
was  very  wide,  and  that  God  was  an  all-suflTicient  Father. 
"Alas!  sir,"  she  replied,  "I  never,  in  the  whole  course 
of  m}^  life,  experienced  a  moment's  anxiety  from  the  dread 
of  my  children  or  m^'self  suffering  the  want  either  of  food 
or  raiment.  No,  sir,  my  fears  are  that  they  will  be 
sufferers,  through  the  wasteless  ages  of  eternity,  in  that  state 
of  torment  from  whence  there  is  no  reprieve  ;  and  that  they 
will  continually  execrate  their  parents  as  the  wretched 
instruments  of  brins^ing  them  into  bein<{.  I  have  ei^ht 
children,  sir;  and  can  I  be  so  arrogant  as  to  believe  that 
all  these  children  are  elected  to  everlasting  life?'' — "But, 
my  dear  lad3^  you  have  reason  to  believe  that  they  will  be 
saved,  whether  they  be  elected  or  not,  because  Christ  Jesus 
is  the  Saviour  of  all  men."  This  did  not  satisfy  her.  I 
took  up  the  Bible,  which  lay  upon  her  desk,  and  the  first 
Scripture  which  met  my  view  was  the  one  hundred  and 
twent3^-seventh  Psalm.  I  glanced  my  eye  upon  the  third 
verse  of  that  psalm  :  "  Lo,  children  are  the  heritage  of  the 
Lord,  and  the  fruit  of  the  womb  is  his  reward."  I  did  not 
recollect  this  passage  ;  it  was  the  first  time  it  had  met  my 
particular  observation  ;  but  it  has  ever  since  been  right 


220  LIFE    OF  REV.   JOHN  MURRAY, 

precious  to  my  soul.  I  merely  opened  the  Bible  in  the 
expectation  of  finding  something  to  soothe  a  sorrowing 
mother,  and  this  most  pertinent  passage  broke  upon  me 
with  unequalled  splendor.  I  was  myself  astonished,  and, 
presenting  the  sacred  passage,  I  remarked,  "  There, 
madam,  God  has  sent  yon,  for  your  consolation,  this  divine 
discover}'.  You  have  been  unhapp}^  because  you  did  not 
know  that  your  children  were  God's  children,  and  that  he 
loved  them  as  well,  j'-ea,  infinitely  better,  than  j'ou  can 
pretend  to  love  them.  Naj^,  look  at  the  passage  ;  you  see 
your  children  are  the  heritage  of  God,  they  are  his  reward ; 
will  he  give  his  heritage  to  his  adversary?  or  will  he 
suffer  him  to  seize  an^^  part  thereof,  if  he  has  suflicient 
power  to  prevent  it  ?  "  Again  and  again  the  fond  mother 
perused  the  passage ;  gradualh^  her  countenance  changed, 
and  the  clouds  dispersed  ;  a  flood  of  tears  burst  from  her 
eyes.  She  brightened  up,  and,  pressing  her  babe  to  her 
maternal  bosom,  rapturously  exclaimed,  '•  Blessed,  blessed 
God,  they  are  not  mine  ;  they  are  thine,  O  Almighty 
Father  ;  and  thou  wilt  not  be  regardless  of  thine  own  !  "  I 
never  saw  more  ^oy  in  consequence  of  believing  than  I 
then  beheld.  Ten  years  afterwards  I  again  saw  this  parent, 
iind  asked  her  what  she  thought  of  her  children.  ''Blessed 
be  God  !  "  said  she,  ''  they  are  God's  children  ;  and  I  have 
never  had  an  unhappy  moment  respecting  their  future 
state,  since  my  Redeemer  has  been  graciously  pleased  to 
make  known  unto  me  his  soul-satisfying  truth.  No,  sir, 
my  spirit  is  not  now  a  sorrowing  spirit." 

Again  a  letter  was  handed  me  from  New  York,  earnestly 
■entreating  me  to  pay  them  a  visit.  Arrangements  were 
made  for  my  passage  in  the  vessel  by  which  I  received 
the  solicitation.     To  a  summons  so   pressing  I  dared  not 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN   MURRAY.  221 

turn  a  deaf  ear.  In  fact,  a  revolution  had  taken  place  in 
my  mind.  It  appeared  to  me  that  I  was  highly  repre- 
hensible in  thus  withdrawing  myself  from  the  tour  of  duty 
which  seemed  appointed  for  me  ;  and  I  determined  never 
to  seek  directly  or  indirectly  for  an  open  door,  and  never 
again  refuse  entering  any  door  which  Providence  should 
open.  It  is  true,  I  never  wished  to  receive  an  invitation  \ 
but  I  was  aware  that  the  direction  of  me  and  my  move- 
ments were  in  the  hands  of  infinite  Wisdom  ;  and  promising 
my  benevolent  host  that  I  would  return  as  soon  as  possible,^ 
I  departed  for  New  York.  My  reception  surpassed  my 
expectations,  and  even  my  wishes.  Many  persons  anxious 
to  detain  me  in  their  city  went  so  far  as  to  hand  about  a 
subscription-paper,  for  the  purpose  of  building  for  me 
a  house  of  public  worship.  It  was  completely  filled  in  one 
daj^,  when  application  was  made  to  me  to  abide  with  them 
continuall}'.  I  urged  my  absolute  promise  given,  and  my 
inclination  prompting  my  return  to  Good  Luck,  the  name 
of  the  place  where  my  friend  Potter  dwelt.  They  were 
astonished  at  my  determination  to  reside  in  such  a  place, 
when  the  city  of  New  York  was  opening  its  arms  to  re- 
ceive me.  But  on  my  repeating  the  circumstances  attend- 
ant upon  my  arrival  there,  they  seemed  disposed  to- 
acquiesce,  and  to  acknowledge  the  good  hand  of  God  out- 
stretched for  my  direction.  The  Baptist  meeting-house 
was  again  open  to  me,  and  the  congregations  were  very 
large ;  my  friends  multiplied  very  fast,  and  I  became 
graduall}^  attached  to  this  city.  Yet  I  ardentl}^  desired  ta 
return  to  the  home  of  my  choice  ;  and,  after  spending  a  few 
weeks  in  New  York,  I  once  more  hailed  my  providential 
residence  ;  numbers  of  warm-hearted  friends  accompany- 
ing me  as  before,  even  to  the  vessel's  side,  Avhere  they 


1?22  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

offered  up  to  Heaven  their  most  fervent  prayers  in  my  be- 
half. My  heart  was  gieatl3^  affected.  I  was  warml}^  at- 
tached to  many  in  New  York.  The  famil}^  of  Colonel 
Darke,  and  manj-  others  now  no  more,  were  very  dear 
to  me. 

I  reached  home  in  good  health,  and  was  received  with 
great  joy ;  even  the  servants  seemed  to  participate  the 
benevolence  of  their  master.  In  fact,  having  nothing  in 
the  habitation  of  my  friend  to  render  me  uneasy,  my  mind 
became  more  tranquil  than  it  had  been  for  many  3^ears ; 
and,  at  peace  in  m}"  own  breast,  I  consequently  contributed 
to  the  happiness  of  all  around  me.  Thus  I  continued  in 
undisturbed  repose,  until  a  Baptist  minister  from  New 
Jersey,  believing  my  sentiments  precisely  in  unison  with 
his  own,  conceived  a  strong  affection  for  me.  He  solicited 
me  to  become  a  member  of  his  church,  that  I  might  obtain 
a  license  from  their  association.  Of  course  I  declined  his 
friendly  offers  ;  for  I  well  knew,  when  he  discovered  I  really 
believed  the  gospel  which  I  preached,  uniting  with  his 
brethren,  he  would  be  as  anxious  to  exclude  me  from  his 
sjmagogue  as  he  now  was  to  receive  me.  He  pressed  me 
however,  to  visit  him,  which  I  did,  accompanied  by  m}' 
patron,  who,  to  his  great  mortification,  was  necessitated 
to  leave  me  there.  In  this  gentleman's  pulpit  I  preached. 
I  lodged  in  his  house  ;  and  received  from  him  ever}^  mark 
of  attention,  until  m}'  unbending  refusal  of  all  collections, 
and  the  partialit}^  of  his  friends,  visibly  diminished  his 
regard.  I  had  calculated  upon  this  change,  and  it  did  not 
therefore  astonish  me.  He  was,  however,  a  warm-hearted 
man,  and  as  sincere  as  men  in  general  are.  In  this  place 
I  was  introduced  to  many  worthy  characters,  who,  as  a  part 
of  the  election,  obtained  a  knowledge  of  the  truth  as  it  is 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  223 

in  Jesus.  Among  the  rest  was  a  Justice  Pangbruii,  a  vener- 
able old  gentleman  who  had  for  many  years  been  con- 
sidered by  his  brethren  as  an  oracle.  This  gentleman 
heard  me,  and  discovered  that  my  testimon}^  was  not  in 
unison  with  the  teaching  to  which  he  had  listened.  He 
became  sedulously  intent  upon  detecting  m}'  errors,  and 
he  soon  discovered  I  was  wrong,  and  as  soon  kindlj'  en- 
deavored to  set  me  right.  But,  as  there  was  no  other  wa}^ 
of  effectuating  his  wishes  but  b}'  the  word  of  God,  —  for 
I  refused  all  other  authorit}^,  —  he  was  soon  convinced, 
upon  searching  the  sacred  writings  for  proofs  of  m}^  ho'es}', 
that  it  was  he  himself  who  had  wandered  from  that  precious 
truth  once  delivered  to  the  saints.  Without  hesitation  he 
renounced  his  former  views,  and  continued  ever  after  an 
able  and  zealous  advocate  for  the  truth  preached  by  Abra- 
ham. It  was  now  noised  abroad  that  I  was  an  erroneous 
teacher.  The  clergyman  who  was  so  warmly  attached  to 
me,  while  he  believed  me  a  Calvinistic  Baptist,  now  com- 
menced a  most  inveterate  adversary  ;  and  his  opposition 
published  more  extensively  my  name  and  peculiar  tenets. 
Curiosity  was  excited,  and  I  became  the  object  of  general 
inquir3^  It  is  a  melancholy  truth  that  esteem  and  con- 
sequent friendship  are  not  generall}^  so  operative  upon  the 
human  mind  as  rancor  and  enmit}' .  M}^  experience  is  in 
unison  with  this  observation.  I  hastened  back  to  my 
calm  retreat.  Alas  !  it  was  no  longer  m}^  peaceful  home,  — 
for,  although  no  change  had  taken  place  in  the  house  of 
m}^  friend,  yet  the  influence  of  my  clerical  enem}^  purs  ted 
me.  Opposition,  however,  begat  opposition  ;  and  while  I 
was  hated  by  the  many,  I  was  loved  and  caressed  b}^  the 
few.  Solicitations  to  preach  were  multiplied  from  every 
quarter,  and  although    there   was  no    abatement    in    the 


224  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY. 

attachment  of  m}^  patron,  3^et  tbe  estrangement  of  some  indi- 
viduals in  our  vicinit}^  diminished  the  difficult}^  of  accept- 
ing invitations,  and  I  was  induced  to  visit  a  few  warm- 
hearted individuals  in  the  neighborhood  of  my  implacable 
foe.  Upon  my  arrival  there  I  discovered  a  want  of  which 
I  had  not  until  then  been  conscious  :  I  wanted  a  horse.  A 
single  hint  was  sufficient ;  a  horse  was  immediately  pro- 
cured, and  so  ardent  was  the  affection  of  my  adherents, 
that  I  could  not  express  a  wish  which  they  were  not  eager 
to  gratify ;  but  my  wishes  were  verj^  much  bounded,  and 
ni}'  wants  few  and  simple. 

An  invitation  from  Philadelphia  being  frequently  and 
earnestly  repeated,  I  repaired  to  that  cit}'.  A  respectable 
circle  of  friends  awaited  me  there.  The  Baptist  minister 
invited  me  to  his  house  and  his  pulpit.  He  questioned  me 
in  private,  and,  in  the  course  of  our  conversation,  he  fre- 
quently repeated,  "  Christ  in  us  the  hope  of  glory.*'  I  ven- 
tured to  ask,  "  Pray,  sir,  what  do  3'ou  understand  by '  Christ 
in  us  the  hope  of  glory*  ?"  —  "  Why,  sir,  in  looking  into  mj' 
heart,  I  find  something  in  it  which  I  had  not  some  years 
ago."  —  "Do  you,  sir,  call  this  something,  Christ?"  — 
"Undoubtedly."  —  "But,  sir,  all  the  angels  of  God  wor- 
ship Christ ;  all  the  ends  of  the  earth  are  admonished  to 
look  unto  Christ  and  be  saved.  We  are  exhorted  to  trust 
in  him  at  all  times  ;  and  to  believe  that  there  is  no  other 
name  given  under  heaven,  among  men,  whereby  we  can  be 
saved.  Now,  m}^  good  sir,  suffer  me  to  ask,  would  it  be 
safe  for  angels  in  heaven,  or  men  upon  earth,  to  worship 
that  something  3'ou  have  in  3^our  heart,  which  3'ou  had  not 
there  some  j^ears  ago?  Would  it  be  safe  for  all  the  ends 
of  the  earth,  or  any  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  world,  to 
look  to  that  something  for   salvation?     Could   I,  or   any 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  225 

other  person,  trust,  at  all  times,  to  that  something?"-  — 
"  Then,  sir,  if  this  be  not  Christ,  what  can  the  passage  I 
have  cited  mean?" — "  Certainl}',  sir,  this  cannot  be  the 
Christ  Paul  preached.  The  Christ  Paul  preached,  was  cm-' 
cified  ;  he  was  buried  ;  he  arose  ;  he  ascended ;  and  the 
heavens  must  contain  him  until  the  time  of  the  restitution 
of  all  things."  —  "  But  how,  then,  is  it  that  this  Christ  can  be 
in  ws  the  hope  of  glory?  "  —  ''  Wh}',  sir,  the  Christian  has  no 
other  hope  of  glor}'  than  Jesus  Christ,  entered  within  the 
vail ;  and  this  Saviour  is,  in  his  hearty  the  object  of  his 
trust,  confidence,  and  affection.  You  have,  sir,  as  I  under- 
stand, a  beloved  wife  in  Europe  ;  but,  although  the  Western 
Ocean  rolls  between  jou,  yet  3'ou  ma}^  say  she  is  ever  in 
your  heart,  and  no  one  would  be  at  a  loss  to  understand 
you  ;  but  if  j'ou  were  to  tell  them  your  conjugal  affection 
was  3'our  wife,  the}'  would  stare  at  you ;  and  yet  it  would 
be  as  proper  to  say  your  conjugal  affection  was  your  wife, 
as  to  say  your  love  to  God,  or  an}'  other  good  and  proper 
propensity,  was  your  Christ.  No,  my  dear  sir,  these  are 
not  that  Christ,  the  things  of  which  the  Spirit  of  truth 
taketh  and  showeth  them  to  men,  as  the  matter  of  their 
rejoicing.  The  Christ  of  whom  you  speak  can  be  no  other 
than  tlie  false  Christ ;  that  is,  something  which  is  called 
Christ,  but  is  not  Christ.  The  Christ  of  whom  you  speak, 
as  your  hope  of  glory,  was  never  seen  by  anybody,  and  is 
itself  nobody.  It  neither  suffered  for  your  sins,  nor  rose 
for  your  justification  ;  and  it  is  therefore  most  unworthy  to 
be  held  in  reverence."  This  conversation,  as  may  be  sup- 
posed, made  this  gentleman  exceeding  angry.  And  I  was 
not  a  little  surprised  to  hear  him,  although  he  immediately 
broke  i!|)  the  conference,  insist  upon  my  coming  the  ensuing 
day  (Sunday),  according  to  promise,  to  preach  in  his 
15 


226  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY. 

pulpit.  The  intelligence  ran  through  the  city,  that  I  was 
to  preach  in  the  Baptist  meeting-house,  and  numbers  flocked 
to  hear.  I  came  ;  I  entered  the  parlor  of  the  reverend 
gentleman.  Many  of  the  members  of  his  church  were 
present,  and  a  young  candidate  for  the  ministry.  The  gen- 
tleman who  invited  me,  and  who  repeated  his  invitation  on 
parting  with  me,  arose,  and,  throwing  upon  me  a  most 
indignant  glance,  took  the  j^oung  gentleman  by  the  hand 
and  led  him  into  the  meeting-house,  which  was  adjoining  to 
his  dwelling,  leaving  me  standing  in  his  parlor.  I  now 
perceived  why  he  had  insisted  upon  my  coming  to  preach 
for  him.  But  it  was  not  wonderful.  I  had  spoken  con- 
temptibl}^  of  his  Christ,  and  he  took  rank  among  m}^  invet- 
erate foes.  Yet  I  had  among  his  connections  a  few  friends, 
who,  indignant  at  the  treatment  I  had  received,  redoubled 
their  caresses.  There  was  at  this  time  a  small  compan}^ 
who  assembled  at  a  place  known  by  the  name  of  Bachelor's 
Hall.  They  were  unacquainted  with  the  truth  I  delivered ; 
yet,  willing  to  hear  for  themselves,  they  invited  me  to 
preach  for  them.  Halting  between  two  opinions,  thej^ 
solicited  aid  from  a  minister  of  another  persuasion ;  and 
they  requested  me  to  hear  him ;  to  which  I  readily  con- 
sented. The  preacher  selected  his  text.  "  Behold  the 
Lamb  of  God,  who  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world."  He 
commenced  his  comment :  "  My  friends,  I  shall  undertake 
to  prove,  that  Jesus  never  did,  nor  never  will,  take  awaj^ 
the  sin  of  the  world."  I  was  astonished,  and  the  persons 
asking  my  attendance  were  abashed.  The  preacher  added, 
"  It  is  impossible  Christ  can  have  taken  away  the  sin  of 
the  world,  for  then  all  the  world  must  be  saved."  This  was 
unquestionable.  I  was  exceedingly  gratified,  and  the  more, 
as  this  sermon,  intended  for  my  confusion,  did  much  to 


LIFE    OF  REV.   JOHX  MURRAY.  227 

establish  that  truth,  of  which,  b}'  the  grace  of  God,  I  was 
a  promulgator. 

The  combined  efforts  of  the  clergy  in  Philadelphia  barred 
against  me  the  door  of  every  house  of  public  worship  in 
the  city.  Bachelor's  Hall  was  in  Kensington.  But  at 
Bachelor's  Hall  the  people  attended,  and  a  few  were  enabled 
to  believe  the  good  word  of  their  God.  There  was  in  the 
city  a  minister  of  the  Seventli-da}'  Baptist  persuasion.  For 
a  season  he  appeared  attached  to  me,  but  soon  became  ver}' 
virulent  in  his  opposition.  He  told  me  he  passed  on  foot 
nine  miles,  upon  the  return  of  every  Saturday,  to  preach. 
I  asked  him  how  man}-  his  congregation  contained.  "  About 
a  hundred."  — ''  How  mau}^  of  this  hundred  do  you  sup- 
pose are  elected  to  everlasting  life?"  —  "  I  cannot  tell."  — 
^'  Do  you  believe  fifty  are  elected  ?  "  —  "  Oh,  no,  nor  twen- 
ty." —  ''  Ten  perhaps  ?  "  —  "There  may  be  ten."  —  "  Do  you 
think  the  non-elect  can  take  any  step  to  extricate  themselves 
from  the  tremendous  situation  in  which  the  decrees  of 
Heaven  have  placed  them?"  —  "Oh,  no,  they  might  as 
well  attempt  to  pull  the  stars  from  the  firmament  of  heaven." 
—  "  And  do  3'ou  think  j^our  preaching  can  assist  them?  "  — 
"  Certainly  not.  Every  sermon  they  hear  will  sink  them 
deeper  and  deeper  in  damnation."  —  "And  so,  then,  you 
walk  nine  miles  every  Saturday  to  sink  ninety  persons  out 
of  a  hundred  deeper  and  deeper  in  never-ending  miser}" !  " 

Reports,  injurious  to  my  peace,  were  now  very  generally 
circulated  ;  and  although  I  expected  all  manner  of  evil 
would  be  said  of  me  falsely,  for  His  sake,  whose  servant  I 
was,  3'et  did  the  shafts  of  slander  possess  a  deadh^  power 
by  which  I  was  sorely  wounded.  Had  the  poisoned  weapon 
been  aimed  by  characters  wicked  in  the  common  accepta- 
tion of  the  word,  it  would  have  fallen  harmless.     Nay,  the 


2?8  LIFE    OF  REV.  JOHX  MURRAY- 

fire  of  their  indignation  would  have  acted  as  a  purifier  of 
roy  name  ;  but  reports,  originating  from  those  who  were 
doemed  ho!}-  and  reverend  —  alas !  their  bite  was  mortal. 
Again  I  sighed  for  retirement ;  again  I  hastened  to  the 
bosom  of  m}'  patron,  and  again  mjM'eception  was  most  cor- 
dial. Yet,  although  so  much  evil  was  said  of  me,  man}-, 
glancing  at  the  source,  made  candid  deductions,  and  were 
careful  to  proportion  their  acts  of  kindness  to  the  magni- 
tude of  m}"  wrongs.  Invitations  met  me  upon  the  road, 
and,  wafted  upon  the  wings  of  fame,  I  could  enter  no  town 
or  village  which  mj^  name  had  not  reached,  in  which  I  did 
not  receive  good  and  evil  treatment.  The  clerg}^  and  their 
connections  were  generall}^  inveterate  enemies  ;  while  those 
who  had  will  and  power  to  act  for  themselves,  and  chanced 
to  be  favorabl}^  impressed,  were  very  warm  in  their  attach- 
ments. Thus  my  friends  were  very  cordial,  and  my  enemies 
very  malignant ;  and  as  my  enemies  were  generally  at  a 
distance,  and  my  friends  at  m}^  elbow,  but  for  officious 
individuals  who  brought  me  intelligence  of  all  they  heard, 
I  might  have  gone  on  my  wa}'  with  abundant  satisfaction. 
At  Brunswick,  which  I  had  been  earnestly  solicited  to  visit, 
I  was  received  into  a  most  worthy  family.  The  Rev.  Mr. 
Dunham  was  of  the  Seventh-day  Baptist  persuasion ;  a 
man  of  real  integrit}^,  who,  although  he  could  not  see  as  I 
saw,  threw  open  the  doors  of  his  meeting-house,  conducted 
me  into  his  pulpit,  and  discharged  toward  me,  in  every  par- 
ticular, the  duty  of  a  Christian.  His  neighbor,  a  clergy- 
man, who  was  a  First-day  Baptist,  exhibited  a  complete 
contrast  to  Mr.  Dunham.  He  invited  me,  it  is  true,  to  his 
house  ;  asked  me  to  lodge  there.  We  conversed  together, 
prayed  together ;  he  appeared  very  kind  and  much  pleased, 
and   I  believed  him  my  confirmed   friend,   until,  leaving 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  229 

Brunswick,  I  called  upon  some,  whose  deportment  to  me 
was  the  reverse  of  what  it  had  been.     I  demanded  a  reason  ; 

when  they  frankly  informed  me,  that  the  Rev.  Mr. had 

made  such  representations  as  had  destro^'ed  all  the  pleasure 
the}^  had  been  accustomed  to  derive  from  m}^  presence. 
This  affected  me  beyond  expression,  a  stranger  as  I  was  ; 
and  suffering  in  the  dread  of  what  I  had  to  expect,  1  turned 
from  the  door  of  those  deceived  persons  without  uttering  a 
word.  I  quitted  their  habitations  forever.  Invidious  re- 
marks were  made  upon  my  silence  ;  but  of  these  I  was 
careless.  On  other  occasions  I  might  have  been  affected, 
but  treachery  from  a  man  who  had  entertained  me  so  hos- 
pitably, and  who  stood  so  high  in  the  ranks  of  piety, 
shocked  me  beyond  the  power  of  utterance.  Upon  the 
afternoon  of  this  day  on  which  I  had  been  so  deepl}^  hurt,  I 
was  engaged  to  deliver  my  peaceful  message  in  the  pulpit 
of  Mr.  Dunham,  in  the  vicinity  of  this  perfidious  man. 
Some  time  had  elapsed  since  I  had  seen  him,  and  I  then 
met  him  upon  the  road.  He  advanced  toward  me  with  an 
extended  hand,  and  a  countenance  expressive  of  Christian 
affection.  "You  are  a  great  stranger,  sir?" — "Yes,  sir, 
I  am  a  stranger  and  sojourner  in  ever}-  place,  as  all  my 
fathers  were  before  me."  —  "  Well,  how  have  you  been 
since  I  saw  you  ?  "  —  "  Thanks  be  to  God,  I  have  been  pre- 
served and  owned  and  blessed,  notwithstanding  the  slanders 
of  the  adversarj'  and  his  agents."  He  saw  he  was  detected, 
and  he  determined  immediatel}"  to  drop  the  mask.  "  Well, 
I  will  do  all  in  m}^  power  to  obstruct  5^our  progress 
in  ever}'  place."  —  "  Had  you,  sir,  made  this  declaration  at 
an  earlier  period,  I  should  at  least  have  believed  yoxa  an 
honest  man.  But  to  pass  yourself  upon  me  as  my  friend, 
while  you  were  aiming  at  me  a  vital  stab  !     O  sir,  I  am 


230 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN   MURRAY. 


astonished  at  you."  —  "  And  1  am  more  astonished  at  you. 
Do  you  not  tremble  when  3^ou  think  that  God  must  have  a 
quarrel  with  you?  and  that  all  his  ministers  in  America 
hate  you  ?  "  —  '•  Sir,  I  do  not  believe  my  Creator  is  a  quar- 
relsome Being,  neither  do  I  credit  the  information  that  all 
God's  ministers  hate  me.  A  minister  of  God  is  incapable 
of  hating  any  human  being."  —  "But  are  j'ou  not  con- 
founded when  3'ou  consider  that  you  nmst  be  rigJii  and  we 
icrong,  or  j^ou  wrong  and  all  God's  ministers  right? 
Surel}',  it  is  more  probable  we  should  be  all  right  and  you 


wrong,  than  you  right  and  we  all  wrong." 


I  have  no 


apprehensions  upon  this  head.  Some  one  might  have 
questioned  in  the  da3's  of  Elijah,  when  he  was  opposed  by 
eight  hundred  and  fifty  prophets,  '•  Do  you  not  tremble 
to  see  all  these  holy  and  reverend  priests  on  one  side,  and 
you  alone  on  the  other?  Either  they  must  be  wrong  and 
you  right,  or  j^ou  wrong  and  they  right.'  So  in  Jerusalem 
our  divine  Master  might  have  been  asked,  '  Are  3'ou  not 
appalled  at  beholding  all  the  ministers  of  God,  all  the  rulers 
of  the  people,  in  opposition?  Either  the}^  must  be  wrong 
and  you  right,  or  you  wrong  and  the}'  right ;  and  which, 
pra}',  is  the  most  probable?'  And  the  people  might  have 
been  asked,  '  Have  any  of  our  rulers  believed  on  him?  He 
IS  a  devil  and  mad,  wh}^  hear  yc  him?'"  —  "  I  am  aston- 
ished at  3'our  daring  blasphemy  in  comparing  yourself 
either  to  Elijah  or  Christ."  —  "  ^Vh}',  was  not  Elijah  a  man 
of  like  passions  with  us?  And  are  we  not  taught  to  put  on 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ?  Who  is  it  that  asks,  'If  the^^  have 
called  the  Master  of  the  house  Beelzebub,  what  ought 
the  servants  of  his  household  to  expect?'  Elijah  is  a  mem- 
ber in  the  same  body  with  me  ;  but  the  Redeemer  is  still 
nearer.     He  is  my  head,  the  head   of  every  man.     He  in- 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JORX  MURRAY.  231 

dulges  me  with  the  privilege  of  denying  myself,  my  sinful 
self,  and  he  allows  me  to  acknowledge  no  other  than  his 
blessed  self;  that,  thus  standing  in  his  name,  I  may  stand 
in  the  presence  of  the  Father,  the  Divinity^  with  exceeding 
joy  ;  that,  asking  in  the  name  of  his  immaculate  humanity, 
I  may  be  sure  to  receive,  that  my  joy  may  be  full.  Nor 
can  all  that  you,  or  any  one  else,  can  say,  be  able  to  shake 
me  from  this  m}^  stronghold."  —  "Ay,  perhaps  you  may  be 
mistaken;  you  may  be  deceived."  — "  If  I  am  deceived, 
I  am  deceived  ;  but  I  will  venture."  —  "  You  know  this  is 
not  the  privilege  of  all ;  and  therefore  it  may  not  be 
3'ours." —  "  I  do  not  know  that  this  is  not  the  privilege  of 
all,  but,  if  it  be  of  any,  it  is  of  the  believer ;  and,  as  I 
believe,  it  must  be  mine.  '  The}'  shall,'  said  my  divine 
Master,  'say  all  manner  of  evil  of  you.  falsely.'  You,  sir, 
have  been  in  Brunswick,  fulfilling  this  Scripture ;  and  I 
rejoice  that  I  have  made  the  discovery.  Tou  can  never 
deceive  me  again  ;  but  as  I  am  not  naturally  suspicious, 
others  may  obtain  a  lease  of  my  good  opinion,  from  which 
the}^  will  never,  but  upon  the  strongest  conviction,  be 
ejected."  I  left  this  good  man  beyond  measure  enraged, 
and,  no  doubt,  believing  he  should  really  render  God  ser- 
vice by  doing  me  the  most  essential  injur3^  I  immediately 
repaired  to  the  pulpit  of  my  friend  Dunham,  where,  preach- 
ing peace,  I  recovered  my  lost  serenity.  And  it  gladdened 
my  heart  to  believe  that  the  inveterate  enem}- ,  with  whom  I 
had  parted  upon  the  road,  was  included  in  the  redemption 
it  was  my  business  to  proclaim. 

But  now  again  my  heart  failed  me ;  again  I  sickened 
at  the  prospect  before  rae,  and  my  whole  soul  revolting 
from  a  continuance  in  public  life,  I  once  more  fled  to  my 
beloved,  my  sequestered  home.     I  sighed  ardently  for  my 


232  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

emancipation.  Of  that  God,  who  was  in  Christ  reconcil- 
ing the  world  unto  himself,  I  entertained  not  the  smallest 
dread.  But  my  coward  spirit  trembled  before  a  combination 
of  religious  characters,  headed  by  the  clerg}-,  and  armed  for 
my  destruction.  Their  zeal  was  manifested  by  their  in- 
dustriousl}'  propagating  a  variety  of  evil  reports.  I  would 
detail  them,  were  the}'  not  so  numerous.  And,  although 
all  manner  of  evil  had  not  3'et  been  said  of  me,  enough  was 
said  to  implant  a  dread  of  some  overwhelming  termination. 
Thus  my  aversion  to  the  path  into  which  I  had  been 
pressed  became  more  imposing.  I  was  read}-  to  say,  Lord, 
send  by  whom  thou  wilt  send,  and  in  mercy  vouchsafe  to 
grant  me  my  final  exit  from  those  surrounding  scenes  which 
embosom  the  retirement  of  my  friend. 

Often  have  I  wept,  as  I  traversed  the  woods  and  groves 
of  my  patron,  at  the  thought  that  I  could  be  indulged  with 
the  felicity  of  passing  the  remainder  of  my  days  amid  those 
sylvan  scenes  ;  especially  as  it  was  the  wish  of  the  liberal 
master  that  I  should  so  do.  I  became  apprehensive,  that 
my  trials  in  this  New  AYorld  would  surpass  those  which  I 
encountered  in  the  Old.  These  agonizing  anticipations 
prostrated  me  before  the  throne  of  the  Almighty,  imploring 
his  protection  ;  and  from  this  high  communication  with  m^' 
Father,  God,  m}^  griefs  have  been  assuaged  and  my  vvounded 
spirit  healed.  Urged  b}'  a  strong  sense  of  dut\',  I  again  visited 
Ui)per  Freehold,  to  which  place  I  had  been  repeatedly  sum- 
moned. My  acquaintance  there  was  large  and  respectable  ; 
but  it  was  the  residence  of  a  high-priest  who  treated  me 
roughl}'.  I  was  asked  to  breakfast  at  the  house  of  one  of 
his  congregation,  without  the  most  remote  hint  that  I  was 
to  meet  this  great  man  ;  but  I  was  hardly  seated,  when  he 
was  observed  making  his  approaches  ;  and,  from  some  ex- 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  233 

pressions  of  surprise,  I  was  induced  to  believe  he  was  to- 
tally unexpected.  I  was  astonished  to  see  so  many  assem- 
bled ;  but  supposed  that  curiosit}'  to  see  the  strange 
preacher  of  so  strange  a  doctrine  had  drawn  them  together. 
I  was,  however,  afterwards  assured  that  the  plan  had  been 
previously  concerted.  Mr.  Tennant  entered.  "We  were  in- 
troduced to  each  other.  He  drew  a  chair  into  the  midst  of 
the  circle,  and,  commanding  into  his  countenance  as  much 
stern  severity  as  he  could  collect,  he  commenced  his  studied 
operations.  "  I  want  to  know,  sir,  b}'  what  authority  you 
presume  to  preach  in  this  place."  —  '•  Pra}',  sir,  by  what 
authority  do  you  thus  presume  to  question  me?"  —  ''I  am, 
sir,  placed  here,  by  Almighty  God,  to  look  after  the  affairs  of 
his  church  and  people  ;  and  I  have  a  right  to  insist  on  know- 
ing who  and  what  you  are."  —  '•  AVell,  sir,  if  you  be  placed 
here  as  the  vicegerent  of  Heaven,  you  should  take  care  how 
you  conduct ;  you  have  a  great  charge,  and  your  responsi- 
bility is  proportioned  to  its  magnitude.  But,  sir,  I  am  not  as- 
suming ;  I  have  no  design  upon  your  people.  I  am  like  a  per- 
son in  the  time  of  harvest,  who  steps  into  the  field,  and  binds 
up  some  sheaves,  making  no  demand  upon  the  proprietor  of 
the  grounds.  I  have  never  attempted  to  scatter  3'our  sheep  ;  I 
have  not  even  plucked  a  lock  of  their  wool.  I  do  not  wish  to 
govern,  I  onlv  aim  at  being  a  help."  —  ''  I  do  not  like  3'ou  a  bit 
the  better  for  all  this  stuff.  I  insist  on  knowing  whether  you 
came  in  at  the  door."  —  '-I  wish  to  know,  sir,  what  door  you 
mean."  —  '-I  mean  the  door  of  the  church  ;  all  who  come 
not  in  at  that  door  are  thieves  and  robbers."  —  "  But,  sir,  I 
would  know  what  church  you  mean.  The  Pope  declares 
there  is  no  true  church  save  the  one  of  which  he  is  the  head. 
The  Episcopal  bishop  affirms  there  is  no  true  church  but  that 
of  which  the  king  is  the  head.     Do  you,  sir,  mean  either  of 


234  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

these  ?  "  —  "  No,  sir,  I  mean  the  true  church.  Did  you  come 
in  at  that  door  ?  "  —  "If,  sir,  you  do  not  tell  me  what  you 
mean  by  the  true  church,  how  can  I  answer  you  respecting 
the  door?" —  "  Sir,  I  will  have  no  evasions.  Did  you,  or 
did  you  not,  come  in  at  the  door  ?  "  —  "  Jesus  Christ  says,  '  I 
am  the  door ;  by  me,  if  any  man  enter,  he  shall  be  saved.* 
Do  3"0u  mean  this  door,  sir?  "  —  "  No,  sir,  I  mean  the  door 
of  the  church."  —  "  Is  not  Jesus  Christ  the  door  of  the 
church,  sir  ?  "  —  "  No,  sir."  —  "  Well,  sir,  although  there  be 
many  preachers  who  have  not  entered  at  this  door,  you  will 
not,  I  trust,  esteem  a  preacher  the  less  for  having  the  privi- 
lege to  go  in  and  out  at  this  door."  —  "  Sir,  I  have  nothing 
to  do  with  this.  I  wish  to  know  w^hether  you  have  church 
authorit}'  for  preaching  ;  that  is,  whether  you  came  properly 
in  at  the  door."  —  "  Sir,  I  have  the  same  authorit}^  for  preach- 
ing, which  the  apostle  Paul  had  ;  he  received  his  mission  by 
the  will  of  God,  —  so  have  I."  —  "  A3',  sir,  give  us  the  same 
miracles  that  Paul  wrought,  and  we  will  believe  you."  —  "If 
the  power  of  working  miracles  were  necessary  to  prove  a 
right  to  preach  the  gospel,  perhaps  you,  sir,  would  be  also 
at  a  loss  to  prove  3^our  own  right,  either  to  preach,  or  thus 
to  question  a  fellow-creature.  " —  "  Sir,  you  are  a  deceitful, 
hypocritical  man.  If  ^^ou  had  come  properly  in  at  the  door  I 
should  have  received  3'ou  ;  but  you  are  an  impostor, —  I  pro- 
nounce 3'ou  an  impostor."  —  "  That  is  more  than  3'ou  know, 
sir,  and,  I  add,  more  than  I  know  myself;  but,  if  we  cannot 
agree  about  the  church  and  the  door,  blessed  be  God !  we 
can  agree  in  one  fundamental  point :  while  we  were  yet  sin- 
ners, Christ  Jesus  died  for  us,  and  while  we  were  yet  enemies, 
we  wer<^  reconciled  to  God  by  the  death  of  his  Son."  The 
old  gentleman  started  from  his  seat,  and,  running  round  the 
apartment,  exclaimed,  in  a  loud  and  thundering  voice,  to 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  235' 

those  who  were  without,  "  Come  in,  and  hear  gibberish, 
gibberish,  gibberish  !  "  I  was  astonished,  and  when  he  had 
so  far  spent  his  rage  as  to  remain  for  one  moment  silent, 
I  looked  full  in  his  face,  and  asked,  "  Pray,  sir,  what  lan- 
guage do  3'ou  make  use  of  ?  Is  it  possible  that  you^  a 
clerg3'man,  highly  distinguished,  the  head  of  the  Presbyter}', 
and  now  in  the  evening  of  life,  should  be  so  little  ac- 
quainted with  the  Scriptures  as  to  call  the  language  of 
revelation  gibberish?  "  —  "  You  know  nothing  about  revela- 
tion ;  there  never  was  an  individual  of  the  human  race,  that 
ever  had  any  interest  in  Christ,  or  in  God,  until  the}'  had 
repentance  and  faith."  — ''  Pardon  me,  sir  ;  you  do  not  be- 
lieve this  3'ourself." — "  I  sa}',  I  do." —  "  Excuse  me,  sir  ;  you 
certainly  do  not."  —  "  Give  rae  leave  to  tell  you,  you  have  a 
great  deal  of  impudence  thus  to  talk  to  me."  —  "  Naj',  sir,  I 
do  not  wish  to  oftend.  I  wish  you  to  reconsider  3'our  asser- 
tion. I  am  confident  you  do  not  believe  it ;  and  I  am  con- 
fident you  will  have  the  goodness  to  own  it  before  I 
quit  this  apartment."  —  "  Let  me  tell  you,  3'oung  man,  you 
have  the  greatest  stock  of  assurance  I  have  ever  met  with  in 
an}'  young  person.  I  tell  3'ou  again,  there  never  was  an  indi- 
vidual of  the  human  race,  who  left  this  world  without  faith 
and  repentance,  who  ever  had  any  interest  in  Christ,  or  ever 
tasted  happiness."  —  "  Not  one  ?  "  —  *'  No,  sir,  not  one."  — 
"  O  sir,  I  am  ver}'  sorry  you  compel  me  to  make  you  retract 
this  aflfirmation."  Turning  to  the  company',  he  required  them 
to  say  whether  they  did  not  think  my  insolence  surpassed 
credibilit}'.  The  company  were  silent,  and,  after  a  pause,  I 
said,  "  I  know,  sir,  if  you  believe  Calvinistic  principles,  you 
believe  some  infants  ma}'  be  eternally  lost ;  but  no  Calvinist 
denies  that  some  infants  are  interested  in  Christ,  and  eter- 
nally blessed,  although  they  passed  out   of  time   without. 


236  LIFE    OF  JtEV.    JOHX  MURRAY. 

repentance  or  faith."  —  "  Sir,  I  never  thought  of  infants."  — 
"  So  I  imagined  ;  and  it  was  therefore,  sir,  I  took  the  lib- 
•erty  to  say,  you  did  not  believe  what  you  advanced."  —  "  But 
I  believe  it  with  respect  to  all  besides  infants."  —  "  No,  sir, 
pardon  me,  you  do  not." 

Again  he  was  exceeding  angry,  until  I  mentioned  idiots. 
"  I  did  not  think  of  idiots."  —  "I  believe  you  did  not ;  but, 
my  good  sir,  would  it  not  be  as  well,  if  you  were  alwaj^s  to 
think  before  3'ou  speak?  "  —  "  Again  I  say,  I  am  astonished 
at  your  impudence.  I  could  not  have  believed  a  young  man 
like  you  could  have  had  so  much  impudence." — "I  dare  say, 
sir,  you  are  disappointed.  You  expected  to  have  met  a 
timid,  poor,  destitute  stranger,  who  would  have  been  con- 
founded by  noise,  and  such  cogent  arguments,  as  gibberish, 
gibberish,  repeatedlj^  vociferated  ;  you  expected  I  should 
not  have  dared  to  utter  a  syllable  ;  you  have  been  pleased  to 
treat  me  ver}-  roughly  ;  you  know  not  but  3^ou  have  been 
pouring  vinegar  into  wounds  already  sore  ;  you  have,  sir, 
been  vexing  the  stranger,  and  without  any  provocation  on 
my  part."  —  "  Ay,  ay,  this  is  the  language  of  all  impostors." 

Thus  ended  my  morning  repast.  I  was  very  much  hurt ; 
yet  I  reaped  advantage  from  this  new  trial.  Returning  to 
my  lodgings,  I  experienced  the  most  painful  sensations ; 
but  the  rebuff  I  had  received  operated  as  usual.  It  drew 
me  nearer  to  m}'  God,  and,  pouring  out  my  heart  in  secret 
before  the  Father  of  my  spirit,  I  obtained  what  the  favor 
of  the  clergy  could  never  give,  —  consolation  and  peace  in 
believing. 

My  conduct  at  this  breakfasting  conference  was  repre- 
sented in  such  a  point  of  view  as  increased  the  number  of 
my  friends  ;  and  clerical  gentlemen  in  this  place  and  its 
environs  forbore  direct  attacks ;    but  the   tongue    of   the 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JORX  MURRAY.  237 

private  slanderer  was  busil}'  emplo3'ed.     A  gentleman  of 

C ,  the  Rev.  Mr.  S ,  repeatedl}^  attended  my  public 

labors  ;  addressed  me  after  preaching,  continued  some  time 
in  conversation  with  me,  and  appointed  a  day  on  which  he 
pressed  me  to  dine  with  him.     I   accepted  his  politeness 

with  gratitude,  and  was  punctual  to  the  time.     Mr.  S 

received  me  with  manifest  satisfaction  ;  we  were  alone,  and 

we  passed  many  hours  most  pleasanth'.     Mr.  S seemed 

solicitous  that  I  should  view  him  neither  as  a  sceptic  nor  a 
caviller,  but  simply  an  inquirer  after  truth.  He  asked  me 
many  questions,  which  I  answered  as  clearly  as  I  was 
able  ;  and  he  appeared  sometimes  dissatisfied,  sometimes 
silenced.  Upon  the  whole,  his  deportment  was  gentlemanly, 
and  I  could  not  forbear  regarding  him  as  a  sensible,  illu- 
mined Christian.  On  my  departure,  he  urged  me  to  con- 
sider his  house  my  home  whenever  I  visited  C ;  waited 

on  me  while  I  mounted  m}^  horse,  pressed  my  hand,  and, 
with  much  apparent  devotion,  supplicated  the  blessing  of 
Heaven  upon  me.  On  recurring  to  my  journal,  I  find  my 
notice  of  this  interview  concluded  as  follows :  ''  Thus  far 
am  I  brought  on  my  way  rejoicing ;  the  Lord  is  my  sun 
and  shield  ;    blessed  be  the  name  of  m}^  God  !  "     Yet  no 

sooner  was  I  out  of  view,  than  this  same  Mr.  S ordered 

his  horse,  and,  posting  to  every  respectable  family  in  his 
parish,  informed  them  that  with  all  my  cunning^  he  had 
outwitted  me  ;  that  he  had  asked  me  to  dine,  and,  hy  flattery 
and  caresses^  had  throvm  me  off  my  guard.)  and  obtained  a 
complete  knowledge  of  my  principles.  "  Well,  dear  sir, 
and  what  are  his  principles?"  —  "Oh!  truly  shocking! 
horrid!  most  horrid!  I  dare  not  relate  them;  3'ou  shall 
not  be  contaminated  by  the  recital ;  it  would  be  dangerous 
in  the  extreme."     Nor  was  this  enough.     Being  a  member 


238  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

of  the  Presb3'ter3'',  be  wrote  a  circular  letter,  addressing 
ever}--  leading  associate,  which  effectually  steeled  all  hearts, 
and,  so  far  as  his  influence  extended,  barred  every  door 
against  me.  Calumnies  of  various  descriptions  were  dis- 
seminated ;  rancor  became  uncommonly  prolific  ;  astonishing 
efforts  were  made  to  destroy  my  reputation  ;  but  God  was 
with  me,  and  his  spirit  was  my  never-failing  support.  In 
the  midst  of  these  fierj^  trials,  I  passed  on  ;  succeeding 
weeks  and  months  rolled  awa}^,  while  my  days  were  appro- 
priated to  my  beloved  home,  to  different  parts  of  the  Jer- 
seys, Philadelphia,  New  York,  and  many  of  the  intervening 
towns  scattered  between  those  cities. 

In  the  commencement  of  the  autumn  of  1772,  I  was 
strongly  induced  to  journey  as  far  as  Newport,  in  Rhode 
Island  ;  and,  having  dropped  a  tear  at  parting  with  my 
faithful  friend,  I  commended  him  to  the  care  of  Heaven, 
and  began  my  new  tour  of  duty.  The  chilly  mornings  and 
evenings  of  even  the  first  autumnal  month  gave  me  to 
experience  the  want  of  an  outside  garment.  I  was,  how- 
ever, determined  not  to  solicit  human  aid  ;  this,  I  believed, 
would  be  taking  the  business  out  of  the  hand  of  my  Mas- 
ter. If  God  had  sent  me,  he  would  put  it  into  the  hearts 
of  his  people  to  supply  me  ;  yet  I  did  not  calculate  that  this 
want  would  be  supplied  until  I  reached  New  York.  I 
believed  I  had  in  that  city  a  friend  who  would  derive 
pleasure  from  administering  to  my  necessities.  But  when 
I  was  preparing  to  leave  Brunswick,  a  person  entered  the 
parlor,  displa3^ed  a  number  of  patterns,  requested  I  would 
make  a  choice  for  a  great-coat,  and  asked  how  long  I  should 
tany  in  town.  I  told  him  I  should  leave  town  early  on  the 
succeeding  morning.  "  Well,  sir,"  he  returned,  "  3'our 
•coat  shall  be  ready."   I  asked  by  whom  he  was  sent.     ''  Sir, 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  239 

I  was  ordered  not  to  say  b}'  whom."  —  "  It  is  very  well ; 
I  know  who  sent  yon."  —  ''  Do  you,  sir?  "  —  "  Yes,  sir  ;  it 
was  God,  my  Father  ;  who,  having  all  hearts  in  his  hand, 
has  stixnulated  j^our  emplo3'er."  Early  the  following  morn- 
ing the  coat  was  brought  home.  I  was  deepl}^  affected, 
and,  laying  ray  hand  upon  it,  I  said,  "  Henceforward  thou 
shalt  be  ni}^  monitor  ;  whenever  I  feel  my  heart  desponding, 
in  silent  but  persuasive  language  thou  shalt  say, '  Cast  th}' 
care  upon  God,  for  he  careth  for  thee.'  "  It  was  not  so 
much  the  supply  of  this  pressing  want  that  pleased  me,  as 
the  recognition  of  the  immediate  hand  of  paternal  Deity, 
who  thus  vouchsafed  to  own  and  bless  my  mission.  On 
my  arrival  in  New  York,  I  learned,  to  my  great  astonish- 
ment, that  the  friend  on  whom  my  hopes  of  a  winter  garment 
had  rested  was  become  m}^  enemy  !  I  was  greatly  pained.  He 
was  very  dear  to  me  ;  but  a  religious  slanderer  had  been  at 
his  ear,  and  had  prejudiced  him  against  me.  I  lost  him 
forever.  Alas !  alas,  how  many  such  losses  have  I  sus- 
tained since  I  became  a  promulgator  of  the  truth  as  it  is 
in  Jesus. 

Leaving  New  York,  I  postponed  my  journey  to  Newport, 
passed  through  East  Jerse}-,  and  stopped  at  Amboy,  where 
I  had  man}^  friends.  Sitting  one  evening  at  tea  with  a 
lady,  she  complained  that  her  maid  had  quitted  her,  having 
been  seduced  from  her  duty  by  a  foot-soldier.  This  imme- 
diately reminded  me  of  Mrs.  Trinbath,  the  poor  unhapp}' 
lady  at  whose  house  in  Cork  I  had,  in  company  with  Mr. 
Whitefield  and  others,  been  so  splendidly  entertained.  I 
related  the  mournful  tale,  when  the  lady  assured  me  she 
knew  the  unhappj^  creature ;  she  had  seen  her  in  Ambo}^, 
and  that  she  was  now  in  New  York  in  a  most  wretched 
situation.     I  immediatel}^  conceived  a  hope  that,  if  I  could 


240  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

obtain  an  interview  with  her,  I  might  prevail  upon  her  to 
return  to  her  widowed  mother,  and  to  her  children  ;  and, 
although  her  husband  was  no  more,  she  might  j'et,  in  some 
measure,  retrieve  the  past.  Alas  I  alas  !  I  did  not  calculate 
that  I  was  thus  making  provision  for  the  most  serious 
calamit}'  which,  during  ni}'  sojourn  in  this  New  World,  had 
until  then  overtaken  me. 

The  following  da}^,  intent  on  my  purpose,  I  took  passage 
in  the  packet  for  Xew  York,  accompanied  by  the  sergeant- 
major  of  the  regiment  to  which  the  fellow  belonged,  witli 
whom  this  deluded  woman  lived.  I  asked  him  if  he  knew 
such  a  person.  Yes,  he  knew  her,  and  she  was  in  a  ver}^ 
wretched  condition.  I  sighed,  from  the  inmost  recesses  of 
m}^  soul,  while  I  listened  to  his  account  of  her  manner  of 
living.  I  begged  to  know  if  I  could  see  her.  Yes  ;  he 
could  conduct  me  to  her  abode  ;  but  on  our  arrival,  passing 
over  the  common,  near  the  gaol,  to  the  residence  of  this 
poor  creature,  we  chanced  to  meet  her  infamous  seducer, 
who,  not  having  heard  of  the  death  of  Mr.  Trinbath,  imme- 
diately concluded  I  was  that  injured  husband,  come  to 
reclaim  my  wretched  wanderer.  Under  this  impression  he 
hastened  home,  and  effectually  secreted  her  before  we 
reached  the  door.  I  was  disappointed  ;  but  I  informed  a 
poor  creature  in  the  house  that  I  would  call  upon  the 
ensuing  da}',  at  one  o'clock,  when  I  hoped  I  might  obtain 
an  interview.  I  was  the  next  da}-  punctual  to  the  appoint- 
ment;  but,  instead  of  the  misguided  woman,  I  received  a 
letter,  directed  to  Mr.  Trinbath,  entreating  most  earnestl}^ 
that  I  would  not  attempt  to  see  her  ;  that,  after  treating  me 
as  she  had  done,  she  never  would  see  me  more  ;  and  that, 
if  I  persisted  in  pursuing  her,  she  would  leave  the  city,  and, 
taking  with  her   her   miserable   children,  they    would    all 


I 


LIFE    OF  BEV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  241 

perish  together  ;  for  she  would  rather  than  meet  my  ej-e 
suffer  a  thousand  deaths.  1  was  bej'ond  measure  shocked 
at  this  letter.  I  saw  the  absolute  necessity  of  seeing  and 
convincing  her  of  her  error  ;  but  how  was  this  to  be  effect- 
uated? I  could  devise  no  plan.  I  told  the  old  woman  it 
was  a  most  capital  mistoke  ;  that  I  was  not  the  person  she 
supposed.  ''  Oh,"  said  she,  "^  you  need  sa}'  nothing  about 
that,  sir ;  everj'bod}^  knows  3'ou  are  her  husband,  and 
everybody  pities  you,  poor  gentleman,  that  j'ou  should 
have  such  a  wife  ;  but  she  has  had  bad  advisers,  and  I  dare 
say  if  you  can  see  her  and  forgive  her  (and  everybody 
says  that  if  you  did  not  intend  to  do  so,  you  would  never 
have  sought  her),  she  will  again  be  a  very  good  woman."  I 
was  provoked  beyond  endurance  ;  but  every  appearance  of 
irritation  was  imputed  to  m}^  disappointment  and  conse- 
quent resentment.  My  soul  was  harrowed  up  by  agonizing 
distress.  Unable  to  convince  the  old  woman,  I  returned  to 
my  lodgings.  M3'  friends  perceived  the  anguish  of  my 
spirits,  for  which  the}'  were  well  able  to  account ;  they, 
however,  carefully  avoided  the  subject.  At  last,  not  being 
able  to  control  my  emotions,  I  burst  into  tears.  The}' 
were  alarmed.  ''What  is  the  matter?"  Icircumstantiall}' 
related  the  whole  story,  and  dwelt  upon  my  sufferings, 
consequent  upon  my  inabilit}'  to  see  Mrs.  Trinbath,  and 
convince  her  of  her  mistake.  My  friends  appeared  relieved, 
and  proposed  m}-  writing  to  her,  and  leaving  it  at  her  lodg- 
insrs.  She  will  see  it  is  not  the  handwritino;  of  her  husband. 
The  propriety  of  this  measure  was  obvious.  I  asked  the 
gentleman  if  he  would  accompan}'  me.  "Most  gladly." 
I  wrote  immediately,  laboring  to  convince  this  unfortunate 
woman  of  her  error,  and  assuring  her  that  m}'  friend,  Mr. 

rrinbath,  had  been  many  years  dead  ;  that  if  she  would  but 
IG 


242  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MUERAT. 

give  me  a  meeting  for  a  single  moment,  she  would  acknowl- 
edge she  had  nothing  to  fear  from  me.  This  letter  was 
ineffectual ;  she  was  positive  it  was  all  a  deception,  and 
that,  Avith  a  view  of  deceiving  her,  I  had  employed  some 
other  pen. 

This  stor}"  was  a  sweet  morsel  to  my  religious  foes.  It 
was  painted  in  the  most  odious  colors,  and  industriously 
exhibited.  They  declared  the  woman  was  unquestionably 
m}^  wife ;  and  that,  on  account  of  the  treatment  she  had 
received  from  her  barbarous  husband,  she  had  preferred 
putting  herself  under  the  protection  of  a  common  soldier ; 
that  she  had  attended  church  upon  a  lecture  evening,  and 
upon  seeing  me,  her  husband,  in  the  pulpit,  she  had  shrieked 
aloud  and  fainted.  This  and  a  thousand  other  falsehoods 
were  circulating  through  the  cit3\  M}^  humane  friends  at 
length  interfered  ;  they  solicited  the  commanding  officer  to 
oblige  the  fellow  with  whom  the  woman  lived  to  produce 
her.  She  approached  with  dread  apprehension.  A  large 
company  was  collected,  spectators  of  the  scene.  She 
caught  a  glance,  and  exclaiming,  in  a  tremulous  accent, "  It 
is —  it  is  he,"  immediately  fainted.  Curiosity  and  human- 
ity combined  to  recover  her ;  she  was  led  into  the  parlor. 
I  appeared  full  before  her,  entreating  her  to  take  a  view  of 
my  face.  She  did  so,  and  no  words  can  express  her  confu- 
sion. Her  acknowledgments  were  repeated  and  copious. 
She  did  not  recollect  ever  to  have  seen  me  before.  I  was 
most  happy  in  the  result  of  this  untoward  business,  which 
had  nearly  annihilated  my  anxiety  respecting  her  restora- 
tion to  her  connexions.  Indeed,  I  was  assured  no  entrea- 
ties would  procure  her  return  to  Cork.  So  man}^  had 
witnessed  an  eclaircissement  so  honorable  to  me,  that  I 
fondly  believed  it  would  be  attached  to  the  narration ;  but, 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  243 

alas !  there  was  not  a  thousandth  part  of  the  pains  taken 
to  publish  the  truth  as  had  been  taken  to  spread  far  and 
wide  the  slander.  Here  it  was  tlie  still  voice  of  friendship  ; 
there  it  was  slander  with  her  thousand  tongues.  None  but 
God  can  tell  how  much  I  have  suffered  from  the  various 
trials  I  have  encountered.  Again  I  mournfull}-  acknowl- 
edged that  my  object  in  coming  to  America  was  not  in  any 
view  obtained ;  that  my  grand  desideratum  appeared 
further  and  further  from  my  reach.  Again  I  wished  most 
ardently  to  be  in  England  ;  3'ea,  in  the  very  scenes  from 
which  I  had  escaped,  if  I  might  thus  be  delivered  from  the 
distracted  situation  in  which  I  was  involved  ;  and  the  more 
I  contemplated  the  indignation  and  power  of  the  clerg}', 
the  more  frequentl}^  I  exclaimed,  "  Doubtless  I  shall  one  day 
perish  by  the  hand  of  my  enemy."  Yet,  in  the  darkest 
night  of  my  affliction,  my  gracious  God  frequently  vouch- 
safed to  grant  me  peace  and  joy  in  believing  that  his 
almighty  power  was  sufficient  for  me  ;  and,  in  the  pulpit, 
whatever  was  my  previous  situation,  either  mental  or 
corporeal,  when  engaged  in  the  investigation  of  divine 
truth,  I  was  not  only  tranquil  but  happy.  And  this  happi- 
ness I  often  enjoyed ;  for  an  ardent  curiosity  obliged  the 
people  everywhere  to  hear ;  and,  when  a  pulpit  could  not 
be  obtained,  a  private  house,  a  court-house,  a  wood,  an- 
swered the  purpose  ;  and  I  rejoiced,  while  contemplating 
the  irradiations  of  divine  truth  bursting  through  the  dark 
clouds  of  prejudice,  and  with  such  imposing  splendor  as 
could  onl}'  be  effectuated  by  Omnipotent  power. 

I  received  frequent  and  most  pressing  invitations  to 
visit  New  England.  During  my  residence  in  New  York, 
I  became  known  to  many  gentlemen  of  Connecticut ;  and 
I  was  requested  to  stop  and  deliver  my  testimony  in  vari 


244  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

Oils  places  along  the  road.  I  resumed  1113'  purpose  of  visit- 
ing Newport,  determining  to  proceed  thither  with  all 
possible  ilespatch.  I  had,  however,  promised  to  stop  at  a 
friend's  house  in  Milford,  and  at  another's  in  Guilford  ;  at 
which  places  I  preached  to  ver}"  large  congregations.  Sev- 
eral strangers,  having  seen  rae  elsewhere,  recognized  me 
and  entreated  me  to  accompany  them  to  their  respective 
homes  ;  but  my  object  was  Newport.  Many  individuals 
from  Norwich  departed  from  Guilford  with  me ;  they  gave 
me  to  understand  that,  having  made  a  part  of  my  audi- 
ence on  the  preceding  evening,  they  were  extremely  desir- 
ous I  should  proceed  with  them  to  Norwich.  We  passed 
the  day  very  agreeably  together,  conversing  with  great 
freedom.  About  sunset  we  reached  New  London,  where  it 
was  m}^  resolution  to  bid  my  new  associates  adieu.  But 
they  so  earnestly  importuned  me  to  go  on,  one  gentleman 
in  particular,  that,  accepting  his  proffered  kindness,  I  was 
that  night  lodged  in  his  hospitable  dwelling.  He  soon 
became,  and  ever  after  continued,  m}^  steadfast  friend. 
Mau}^  in  Norwich  received  me  with  great  kindness.  A 
house  of  worship  was  provided ;  but  it  not  being  suffi- 
ciently spacious,  the  doors  of  the  great  meeting-house 
were  thrown  open,  and  never  afterwards  shut  against  me. 
Thus,  in  this  instance,  the  zeal  of  the  people  has  been 
sufficient!}^  imposing  to  prevail  against  ministerial  opposi- 
tion. The  friends  I  obtained  in  Norwich  were,  in  truth, 
inestimable.  Some  individuals  are  not  yet  called  home. 
They  remain  unwavering  in  the  belief  of  the  truth  as  it  is 
in  Jesus,  and  in  their  affectionate  attachment  to  its  feeble 
advocate.  At  Norwich  I  was  solicited  to  preach  in  the 
meeting-house  of  Mr.  Hart,  of  Preston  ;  to  which  place 
many  of  my  new  friends  accompanied  rae.     Having  passed 


LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  245 

the  night  at  Preston,  on  the  succeeding  morning  I  recom- 
menced m}^  journe}'  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hopkins,*  of  New- 
port. The  distance  was  between  thirty  and  forty  miles ; 
but  as  Mr.  Hopkins  was  going  home  he  would  not  stop  to 
dine  on  the  road.  In  the  course  of  the  da}-,  Mr.  Hopkins 
thus  questioned  me:  "Well,  sir,  I  suppose  3'ou  will 
preach  in  Newport?"  —  "  Very  likely,  sir."  —  "You  have 
friends  there,  I  presume?"  —  "  No,  sir,  I  do  not  know  a 
single  soul."  —  "You  have  letters  of  recommendation, 
perhaps?"  —  "Not  a  line,  sir." —  "Where,  then,  do  3'ou 
intend  to  go,  and  what  do  you  intend  to  do?"  —  "I  have 
laid  no  plans,  sir."  —  "I  promise  you,  you  shall  not  preach 
in  my  meeting."  —  "  I  should  be  very  much  surprised  if  I 
did,  sir."  —  "And  I  suppose  you  think  you  are  called  of 
God  to  go  to  Newport?"  —  "I  think  it  is  not  unlikelj^, 
sir." —  "  I  believe  3'ou  will  find  yourself  mistaken."  —  "  It 
is  possible."  —  "Suppose  you  should  find  no  place  to 
preach  in,  what  would  3'ou  do  then?"  —  "Devote  m3'self 
to  private  conversation."  —  "  But  suppose  you  could  find 
no  one  to  converse  with?"  —  "Then  I  would  turn  about 
and  come  back  again." — "But  what  would  you  think  of 
your  faith?  "  —  "  Call  it  fancy.  But,  at  present,  I  think  I 
shall  preach  the  gospel  in  Newport ;  and,  although  I  am 
an  utter  stranger,  knowing  no  one,  nor  known  by  an}'  one, 
yet  I  expect,  before  I  leave  the  place,  to  have  man}' 
friends." — "  Ay,  these  are  fine  fancies  indeed."  —  "Had 
you  not  better  suspend  your  decision  until  you  witness  the 
result?  Will  it  not  then  be  full  time  to  determine  whether 
it  he  faith  ov  fancy?"  —  "If  it  should  not  be  as  I  pre- 
dict, I  should   not  be   ashamed   to  own   my   error ;    if  it 

♦  See  Murray's  "  Letters  and  Sketches,"  vol.  i.,  letter  iv.  I  have  supplied  the 
name  of  Hopkins  for  the  initial,  which  has  been  adopted  in  other  editions.  — 
T.  W 


246  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

should,  you  ought  to  blush  for  3'our  unwarrantable  confi- 
dence. But,  as  it  is  not  impossible  you  may  preach  in 
that  citj%  and  that  some  of  my  people  may  be  among  the 
number  of  your  hearers,  I  think  I  have  a  right  to  question 
3'ou." —  '•  Tf  God  will  give  me  leave  to  preach  to  his  peo- 
ple, I  am  content."  —  "  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  sir?  '* 

—  "Your  observation  brought  to  my  mind  what,  on  a 
certain  occasion,  a  very  distinguished  servant  of  God  said 
to  his  master  when  he  was  told  to  go  down  and  see  what 
Ids  people  were  doing.  '  O  Lord,  they  are  not  nvj  jDeople, 
they  are  thy  people.'  However,  Moses  was  not  settled  on 
your  plan." — "Well,  sir,  I  look  upon  m}^  people  to  bo 
God's  people."  —  "  You  are  perfectly  right,  sir  ;  so  indeed 
they  are  ;  and  if  I  speak  to  them  at  all,  I  shall  speak  to 
them  in  that  character."  —  "Well,  sir,  as  3'ou  call  j'our- 
self  a  preacher  of  the  gospel,  and  may,  as  I  have  said, 
preach  to  my  people,  it  is  proper  I  should  know  w  hat  ideas 
you  have  of  gospel.  Tell  me,  sir,  what  is  gospel?"  —  "I 
am  happ3^  in  being  able  to  give  3^ou  a  direct  answer.  The 
gospel,  sir,  is  a  solemn  declaration,  given  upon  the  oath 
of  Jehovah,  that  '  in  the  seed  of  Abraham  all  the  nations 
should  be  blessed.'  "  —  "  Is  that  all  you  know  of  gospel?" 

—  "  Would  it  not,  my  good  sir,  require  a  very  long  time 
to  inform  mankind  who  and  what  that  Seed  is?  How,  and 
in  what  manner  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  are  and  shall 
he  blessed  therein?  And  what  blessings  th'ey  are  blessed 
with  in  Christ  Jesus?  The  apostle  Paul,  although  he 
labored  more  abundantly  than  his  brethren,  found  this 
vast,  this  important  subject,  abundantly  sufficient  for  his 
ivhole  life.  And  those  who  are  blessed  in  that  Seed  will 
find  the  contemplation  of  that  blessedness,  which  they 
shall  be  blessed  with  in  him^  sufficient  to  furnish  a  song, 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  247 

which,  although  never  ending,  will  be  ever  new."  —  "If 
such  be  your  views,  you  know  nothing  at  all  of  gospel."  — 
"You  could  not  so  absolutely  determine  this  matter,  if  you 
yourself  were  not  acquainted  with  the  meaning  of  the  term 
gospel.     Tell  me,  then,  sir,  if  you  please,  what  is  gospel?" 

—  "  Why,  sir,  this  is  gospel :  '  He  that  believeth,  shall  be 
saved;  and  he  that  believeth  not,  shall  be  damned.'"  — 
"  Indeed,  sir,  I  had  thought  tlie  literal^  simple  meaning  of 
the  term  gospel  was  glad  tidings.  Which  part  of  the  pas- 
sage you  have  cited  is  gospel,  that  which  announces  salva- 
tion, or  that  which  announces  damnation?" —  ^'' Well, 
then,  if  j^ou  please,  this  is  gospel :  '  He  that  believeth, 
shall  be  saved.' "  —  "  Believeth  what,  sir?"— "That." — 
"What,  sir?"— "That,  I  tell  you."  — "What,  sir?"  — 
"  That,  I  tell  you  :  '  He  that  believeth,  shall  be  saved.'  "  — 
"  Believeth  what,  sir?  What  is  he  to  believe?  "  —  "  Why, 
that,  I  tell  5^ou."  —  "I  wished,  sir,  to  treat  this  investiga- 
tion seriously ;  but  as  j^ou  seem  disposed  to  be  rather 
ludicrous,  we  will,  if  you  please,  dismiss  the  subject."  — 
"  Xo,  sir,  I  do  not  mean  to  be  ludicrous ;  I  am  very 
serious."  —  "  Well,  sir,  if  so,  then  I  beg  leave  to  ask  what 
is  it  I  am  to  believe,    the  believing  of  which  luill  save  me?" 

—  "That  Jesus  Christ  made  it  possible  for  sinners  to  be 
saved."  —  "  By  what  means  ?  "  —  "  By  believing."  —  "  Be- 
lieving what?  "  —  '^  That."  —  "  What?  "  —  "  That  Jesus 
Chiist  made  it  possible  for  sinners  to  be  saved."  —  "By 
what  means  is  it  possible  that  sinners  may  be  saved?"  — 
"By  believing,  I  tell  you."  —  "But  the  devils  believe; 
will  their  believing  save  them?" — "No,  sir."  —  "Sup- 
pose I  believe  that  Jesus  Christ  made  it  possible  to  save 
sinners  ;  will  that  save  me?  "  —  "  No,  sir."  —  "  Then,  sir, 
let  me  ask  what  am  I  to  believe,  the  believing  of  which 


248  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY. 

will  save  me?"  —  "  Why,  sir,  you  must  believe  the  gospel 
that  Jesus  made  it  possible  for  sinners  to  be  saved."  — 
"  But  by  what  means  ?  "  —  "By  believing."  —  "  Believing 
what?"  —  "  That,  I  tell  you." 

Mr.  Hopkins  could  not  but  be  conscious  the  ground  he 
had  taken  was  untenable.  Had  he  answered  in  Scripture 
language  that  the  truth  to  be  believed,  and  which  we  make 
God  a  liar  by  not  believing,  was  that  Christ  had  given  him- 
self a  ransom  for  all,  to  be  testified  in  due  time;  that  he  had 
absolutely  tasted  death  for  every  man ;  and  that  every  man 
should  be  made  alive  in  Christ  Jesus,  etc.,  etc.,  the  in- 
ference was  unavoidable,  nor  man,  nor  devil  could  undo 
what  God  had  done.  The  power  exists  not  which  can  set 
aside  the  decrees  of  God.  If  the  Redeemer  did  not  taste 
death  for  all ;  if  he  has  not  purchased  all ;  then  those  for 
whom  he  has  not  tasted  death,  whom  he  has  not  purchased, 
have  no  right  to  believe  he  has  ;  and  were  they  so  to  be- 
lieve, the}^  must  indubitably  believe  a  lie. 

But,  finding  the  temper  of  Mr.  Hopkins  rise  higher  and 
higher  every  time  I  repeated  my  question,  I  endeavored  to 
bring  the  matter  to  a  conclusion,  by  observing  that  I  was 
astonished  to  find  a  master  in  Israel,  and  a  writer  too, 
either  not  able,  or  not  willing,  to  answer  a  simple  question, 
namely,  what  am  I  to  believe  is  the  foundation  of  my  sal- 
vation ?  What  am  I  to  believe  procures  m}^  justification 
in  the  sight  of  God?"  —  "And  I  am  astonished  at  your 
blasphemy."  —  "This  is  in  character,  sir;  men  of  3'our 
description  were  long  since  fond  of  fixing  this  charge  on 
both  the  Master  and  his  witnesses.  But,  remember,  sir, 
if  I  have  blasphemed,  it  is  only  Mr.  Hopkins  whom  I 
have  blasphemed." — "  Well,  sir,  I  believe  I  have  gone  too 
far.     I  will,  if  you  please,  take  back  the  charge." — "With 


LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  249 

all  my  heart,  sir."  —  '•  I  do  not  doubt  3'ou  may  be  admired 
in  Newport  a  whole  fortnight."  —  "That,  no  doubt,  will 
be  fourteen  da3'S  longer  than  3'ou  would  wish." 

Arriving  in  sight  of  Newport  Mr.  Hopkins  said,  "  There 
sir,  is  my  meeting-house  ;  at  a  little  distance  from  thence 
is  my  dwelling-house,  and    my    friends    are    multiplied." 

—  "Well,  sir,  1  have  no  home,  meeting-house,  nor  friend, 
in  Newport.  Yet,  I  repeat,  before  I  leave  that  city  I  ex- 
pect to  have  more  than  one  home  and  many  friends." 
— "  Well,  now  I  think  of  it,  there  is  one  man  who  has 
a  little  place  in  which  possibly  you  ma}^  get  leave  to  preach. 
I  will  direct  3'ou  to  a  man  who  has  some  acquaintance  with 
him."  —  "I  will  thank  3^ou,  sir,  to  inform  me  where  my 
horse  may  be  taken  care  of;  for  myself  I  have  little  con- 
cern." —  "I  promise  you  horse-keeping  is  ver3^  high  in 
Newport."  —  "  That,  sir,  is  ver3'  sad  tidings  to  me,  for  I 
promise  3'ou  my  finances  are  very  low."  Some  ver3^  bitter 
speeches  were  made  ;  and  I  regretted  that  I  was .  so  unfor- 
tunate as  to  have  taken  the  journe3^  with  Mr.  Hopkins. 
"  Your  people,"  said  I,  "  are  leavened  with  the  leaven  of  the 
Pharisees,  and  you  seem  to  be  leavened  wath  the  leaven  of 
Herod."  —  "  What  do  3'ou  mean  by  the  leaven  of  Herod?  " 

—  "I  mean  the  nature  of  Herod."  —  "  How  does  that  ap- 
pl3'?"  —  "Some  persons  urged  our  Master  to  fl3Mn  con- 
sequence of  Herod's  seeking  his  life.  '  (tO,'  said  he,  '•tell 
that  fox  I  ivork  to-day  and  to-morroic^*  etc.,  etc.  Our 
Master  denominated  Herod  a  fox  for  the  purpose  of  giving 
an  idea  of  his  nature.  What  is  a  fox?  A  creature 
that  lives  upon  the  spoil ;  but  he  is  dependent  upon  the 
secrecy  of  the  night,  and  we  are  told,  in  order  t)ie  more 
effectuall3'  to  cover  his  designs,  he  sometimes  imitates  the 
watch-dog,  thus  endeavoring  to  make  it  appear  he  is  de- 


250  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

fending  the  property  of  the  husbandman,  while,  under  the 
guise  of  watchful  care  for  others,  he  is  covertly  acting  for 
himself  till  the  morning  dawns,  till  the  light  appears,  and 
then  his  labor  ends.  This  is  the  leaven  of  Herod,  and  it 
was  of  the  nature  of  this  insidious  animal  that  our  Lord 
cautioned  his  disciples  to  beware."  — "  Well,  there  is 
something  ingenious  in  that,  I  confess."  We  reached  the 
ferry  a  little  before  sunset,  and  on  landing  at  Newport, 
"  There,"  said  Mr.  Hopkins,  pointing  to  a  small  shop,  "  if 
you  will  call  on  that  man  he  will  give  you  direction."  I 
walked  on,  stopped  at  the  door,  and,  holding  the  bridle  in 
my  hand,  asked  the  man  behind  the  counter  if  he  would 
be  so  oblio^inor  as  to  inform  me  which  was  the  best  inn  for 
keeping  horses.  "  Please  to  walk  in,  sir."  I  fastened  my 
horse,  and  entered  the  shop,  and  seeing  the  man  look  very 
gloomy,  and  hearing  him  sigh  very  bitterly,  I  concluded  he 
must  be  under  the  pressure  of  some  heavy  calamit}  ;  and, 
as  no  woman  appeared,  I  suspected  the  poor  fellow  must 
have  lost  his  wife,  and  my  sympathies  were  very  power- 
fully excited.  I  was,  however,  solicitous  about  my  horse,  and 
again  requested  the  requisite  information.  "  Do  not  make 
yourself  uneasy,  sir  ;  my  little  boy  will  be  here  in  a  few  mo- 
ments, when  I  will  send  him  with  3'our  horse,  and  you  will  be 
so  obliging  as  to  tarry  here  and  drink  tea  ;  my  wife  is  out  of 
town,  and  of  course  things  will  not  be  so  well  as  if  she 
were  here."  I  was  very  much  relieved  by  this  intelligence, 
and  sat  down.  "  How  far  have  you  travelled to-da}',  sir?" 
—  "  From  Preston,  in  Connecticut,  sir."  —  "  Did  you  come 
alone,  sir?"  —  "  No,  sir,  I  came  in  company  with  a  Mr. 
Hopkins,  one  of  your  teachers.  I  parted  with  him  at  the 
ferry."  —  "Did  he  not  ask  you  to  his  house?"  —  *' No, 
sir."  — "  Well,  sir,  I  hope  you  will  believe  there    i»   not 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  251 

another  man  in  this  town  who  would  have  been  so  deficient. 
You  must  however,  tarr}^  here  to-night,  and  we  will  take 
especial  care  of  3"our  horse." — "You  are  very  obliging, 
sir ;  but  I  had  rather,  if  you  please,  attend  to  my  horse 
mj'self."  —  "Will  you,  sir,  be  so  good  as  to  leave  this 
matter  to  rae,  and  take  some  refreshment  3'ourself  ?  You 
are  a  public  character,  and  I  have  been  accustomed  to 
attend  to  public  characters." — "How  do  j-ou  know  I 
am  a  public  character?  There  is  nothing  in  my  appear- 
ance which  indicates  it."  —  "  The  moment  j^ou  came  to 
my  door  it  seemed  as  if  some  one  had  said,  '  The  person 
who  addresses  you  is  a  preacher  ;  take  kind  notice  of  him  ;' 
and  I  immediately  determined  to  obey  the  impulse." 

This  instance  of  providential  care  nearly  overpowered' 
me.  I  was  the  more  affected  by  this  bright  manifes- 
tation, as  it  closed  a  very  dark  da}^  It  spoke  to  m}' 
wounded  mind  the  language  of  assurance ;  my  divine 
Master  was  with  me,  and  he  had  pi'epared  the  heart 
of  this  man  to  receive  me,  and  this  soothing  consider- 
ation gave  me  inexpressible  pleasure.  Had  I  been  in 
a  clerical  dress,  or  had  the  smallest  vestige  of  those 
habiliments  been  discernible,  I  should  have  believed  those 
externals  had  produced  their  effect.  But,  divested  as  I 
was  of  everything  which  could  speak  to  the  eye,  I  could  not 
but  greath'  rejoice  in  this  instance  of  recognizing  goodness, 
and  my  full  soul  glowed  with  fervent  and  devotional  grati- 
tude. My  cup  of  tea  was  mingled  with  m}-  tears ;  but 
the}^  were  tears  of  joy,  of  sacred  rapture.  It  was  like  the 
priest  leaving  me,  and  the  good  Samaritan  taking  me  up ; 
and  the  oil  and  wine  thus  poured  into  my  lacerated  bosom 
were  most  sahitarv,  trulv  refreshing:. 

M}^  kind  host  summoned  a  number  of  his    friends  to- 


252  LIFE    OF  REV.   JOHN  MURRAY. 

pass  the  evening  ;  they  all  appeared  very  gloom}^,  and  I 
had  sympath}^  for  their  situation.  After  being  introduced 
they  continued  for  some  time  silent,  and  sighed  in  their 
turns  very  bitterl}'.  Those  sighs  however,  although  signs, 
were  not  proofs,  of  sorrow ;  it  was  the  custom  for  very  re- 
ligious people  to  be  very  melancholy,  and  these  w^ere  ver}^ 
religious  people  ;  so  much  so,  that  I  afterwards  discovered 
there  was  no  society  in  tow^n  with  which  they  could  con- 
scientiously^ associate.  It  was  proposed  I  should  narrate 
my  experiences,  that  they  might  judge  if  I  were  a  child 
of  God.  I  ver}^  readily  accommodated  myself  to  their 
wishes,  and  gave  them  a  sketch  of  some  memorable  scenes 
in  my  life.  When  I  closed,  a  profound  silence,  interrupted 
only  b}^  sighs,  succeeded.  At  last  one  affirmed  I  was  not  a 
child  of  God  ;  my  experiences  were  not  of  the  true  kind  ;  he 
could  not  go  with  me.  A  second  pronounced  I  was  a  child 
of  God,  for  he  felt  me  as  I  proceeded.  Being  thus  divided, 
they  knew  not  on  what  to  determine.  At  last  it  was  pro- 
posed to  apply  to  Mr.  D ,  for  his  meeting-house.     This 

was  the  very  place  pointed  out  by  Mr.  Hopkins.  I  knew 
his  design  was  to  ruin  me,  and  therefore  without  hesitation 
I  said  I  did  not  feel  a  freedom  to  speak  in  the  proposed 
place.  Well,  would  I  preach  in  the  room  in  which  we 
were  sitting  ;  many  had  so  done,  and  why  not  me?  This, 
also,  I  rejected  ;  it  was  too  much  confined.  The}'  pronounced 
me  very  difficult ;  they  did  not  believe  I  should  find  an}' 
other  place.  I  assured  them  I  was  not  anxious  in  this 
respect.  If  God  had  sent  me,  he  would  provide  a  place 
for  me  ;  if  he  had  not,  I  was  willing  to  return  whence  I 
came.  "  Perhaps  God  has  provided  you  a  place  by  direct- 
ing us  to  make  these  offers."  —  "  No,  sir,  if  God  had 
directed  you  to  make  these  oflfers,  and  had  thought  proper 


LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  253 

I  should  deliver  my  message  in  either  of  the  places 
mentioned,  he  would  have  disposed  mj^  heart  to  enobrace 
them  ;  but  this  I  feel  he  has  not  done."  The}'  pronounced 
me  ver}' odd,  and  took  their  leave;  but  the  master  of  the 
house  and  one  of  his  friends,  conceiving  there  was  some- 
thing uncommon  in  me,  m}'  manner  and  m}'  matter,  con- 
tinued with  me  in  conversation  the  gi'eater  part  of  the 
night,  and  although  I  had  travelled  all  the  da}'  yet  I  found 
no  inconveniences  from  this  additional  fatigue. 

After  breakfast,  on  the  ensuing  day,  I  walked  round  the 
town,  and  was  much  pleased  with  its  situation.  Its  harbor 
and  perspective  views  delighted  me  ;  and,  although  a  stran- 
ger, with  only  a  few  shillings  in  my  pocket,  my  bosom  was 
as  tranquil  as  if  in  my  own  residence,  and  master  of  thou- 
sands. Blessed  be  God !  I  have  never  yet  experienced 
much  solicitude  about  this  world,  or  the  gifts  which  it  has 
to  bestow.  It  never  entered  my  head  or  heart  that  I  should 
not  be  supplied  with  whatever  was  necessary  for  me.  I  had 
fared  hard,  and  I  could  again  accommodate  myself  to  the 
vicissitudes  of  life,  —  yea,  and  without  a  murmur.  I  con- 
tinued perambulating  the  streets  until  the  hour  of  dining, 
when  I  returned  to  my  lodgings.  "  Well,  sir,  the  commit- 
tee of  Dr.  Stiles'*  meeting  have  been  here  to  engage  you 
to  supply  their  pulpit  to-morrow,  —  Sunday,  —  and  they 
will  call  for  your  answer  in  the  evening."  I  was,  I  confess, 
astonished  ;  but  the  evening  produced  the  committee,  and 
I  acceded  to  their  wishes.     One  of  the  gentlemen  pressed 

*  I  have  supplied  the  name  of  Stiles.  I  suppose  it  to  have  been  Ezra  Stiles, 
D.D.,  afterwards  President  of  Yale  College.  He  left  Newport  in  1776,  when  his 
congregation  was  dispersed  by  the  war,  and  was  chosen  to  the  presidency  in 
1777.  After  his  removal  to  Xew  Haven,  on  one  occasion  when  Mr.  Murray  was 
there,  he  gave  orders  that  not  one  of  the  students  should  hear  him.  —  Letters  aiuJ 
Sketches,  i.  317.  — T.W. 


254  LIFE    OF  REV.  JOHX  MURRAY. 

me  to  return  with  him,  and  take  up  m}-  abode  at  his  house 
during  my  continuance  in  Newport.  I  did  so,  and  was 
■soon  domesticated  in  his  family,  which  continued  my 
•occasional  home  for  many,  very  many  years.  Doctor  Stiles 
was  absent,  and  it  was  the  business  of  the  committee  to 
suppl}'  the  desk  till  his  return.  My  appearance  was  oppor- 
tune, and  the  people  were  generally  pleased.  I  was  re- 
quested to  publish  a  lecture  for  the  next  day.  I  did  so, 
and  the  congregation  was  crowded  and  attentive.  I  in- 
formed the  audience  that  I  purposed  tarrying  in  Newport 
two  weeks,  during  which  time  I  was  ready  to  unite  with 
them  in  consulting  the  sacred  writings  as  often  as  they 
pleased  ;  but  if  I  delivered  anymore  lectures,  it  must  be  in 
the  evening.  M3'  reason  for  which  was,  that  there  were 
many  laboring  persons  who  could  not  attend  without  loss 
of  time,  —  and  loss  of  time  to  them  was  loss  of  property. 
I  was  then  informed,  that  when  Mr.  Whitefield  was  last 
there,  the  parish  had  passed  a  vote  against  evening  lectures. 
I  replied,  "  The  parish  has  an  indubitable  right  to  adhere 
to  their  vote  ;  but  they  must  excuse  me  if  I  thought  it  my 
dut}^  to  abide  by  my  determination."  The  parish  met,  re- 
considered their  vote,  and  requested  me  to  preach  in  the 
evening.  Here,  then,  I  preached  every  evening  until  the 
doctor's  return;  to  whom  my  kind,  honest  host  requested 
me  to  accompan}^  him  on  a  visit,  insisting  upon  my  prom- 
ising that  I  would  return  with  him.  Simple  man  !  because 
he,  a  hearer,  was  pleased,  he  conceived  his  minister  would 
also  be  pleased,  and  that  he  would  press  me  to  abide  at  his 
house.  I  promised  him,  however,  and  he  exulted  in  having 
gained  his  point.  The  doctor  received  me  with  cool  civility  ; 
asked  me  a  great  man}^  questions  ;  spoke  of  my  pulpit  tal- 
ents .in  the  way  I  expected  he  would  speak  of  them  ;  and 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  255 

finalh'  expressed  regret  that  be  could  not  ask  m}-  assistance 
on  the  ensuing  day,  —  Sunda}-,  —  as  there  were  so  man}' 
individuals  who  would  be  offended.  M}^  friend  was  aston- 
ished. I  was  not.  My  friend  observed  there  was  but  one 
in  the  congregation  who  was  opposed  to  my  preaching  in 
their  meeting-house  ;  and,  he  added,  if  I  did  not  preach,  the 
people  would  be  greatly  disappointed.  The  doctor  would 
not  hear  him,  and  we  parted,  without  my  receiving  even 
an  invitation  to  repeat  my  call.  My  guileless  host  ex- 
pressed great  surprise.  "  So  good  a  man  as  the  doctor ! 
"Wh}*,  I  imagined  he  would  have  taken  you  into  his  arms, 
and  never,  if  he  could  help  it,  have  permitted  yo\i  to  lodge 
an3^where  but  under  his  roof."  From  this  moment  I  had 
much  to  grieve  me  in  Newport ;  for,  although  m}'  friends 
were  numerous,  and  m}^  enemies  but  few,  yet  those  few 
were  uncommonly  industrious. 

On  Monday  morning,  one  of  the  committee  who  had  first 
engaged  me  to  preach  called  upon  me  at  m}^  lodgings,  and 
informed  me  there  came  on  Saturday  night,  from  Xew  York, 
a  reverend  divine,  who  had  given  me  a  most  horrid  charac- 
ter. He  had  said  man}^  things  which  he  hoped  and  believed 
were  not  true.  "Pray,  sir,  where  is  this  good  man?"  — 
"  He  is,  sir,  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Rogers,  father  of  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Rogers."  —  "Will  jou,  sir,  call  upon  this  gentleman 
with  me?"  — "  Certainh^  sir;  but  j^ou  had  better  first 
take  breakfast."  —  "  B3'  no  means,  I  ma}-  miss  him;  and 
I  want  to  see  him  in  your  presence." 

We  hurried  off  immediately,  but,  alas  !  he  had  left  town 
at  break  of  day.  He  had  just  cast  out  firebrands,  arrows, 
and  death,  and  withdrawn  from  the  investigation  upon 
which  he  had  reason  to  calculate.  The  parade  was  full  of 
people.     The  reports  ran  like  wildfire.     Fame  had  blown 


256  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

the  trumpet  of  slander,  and  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Rogers 
many  were  assembled.  I  regretted  that  the  reverend 
calumniator  had  flown.  I  wished  to  be  tried  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  people.  I  requested,  however,  that  they  would 
exhibit  the  charges  lodged  against  me.  The}^  did  so,  and 
they  consisted  of  the  following  items:  First,  I  had  for- 
merly labored  for  my  living  ;  secondly,  I  was  a  married  man  ; 
thirdly,  I  had  children  ;  fourthl}^  I  had  been  a  stage-player  ; 
and  fifthl}^  I  had  sung  songs.  Upon  which  I  observed,  "  Per- 
haps my  denial  of  these  charges  ma}'  answer  little  purpose. 
Yet,  as  in  the  presence  of  Heaven,  you  will  allow  me  to 
sa3^,  that,  although  I  have  made  some  unsuccessful  attempts 
to  obtain  an  honorable  competency,  yet  I  have,  alas!  and 
it  is  with  extreme  sorrow  I  make  the  declaration,  I  have, 
in  this  worlds  neither  wife  nor  child.  I  solemnly  assure  3'ou 
I  never  was  an  actor  upon  any  stage.  I  acknowledge  I 
have  sung  songs  ;  I  was  once  pronounced  a  good  singer ; 
yet  I  do  not  recollect  that  I  ever  sang  any  bad  songs. 
Indeed,  I  liave  been  so  long  out  of  the  habit  of  song-sing- 
ing, that  I  do  not  remember  what  songs  I  have  sung.  I  do 
not,  however,  admit,  that  if  these  charges  could  be  sub- 
stantiated they  ought  to  criminate  me.  It  cannot  be  a 
crime  to  labor.  '  Six  da3's  shalt  thou  labor.'  The  apostle 
Paul  laboi-ed  with  his  own  hands.  Many  of  3'ou  are  mar- 
ried men  ;  many  of  3"0U  have  children  ;  man}^  in  pursuit  of 
business  quit,  for  a  season,  both  wives  and  children  ;  and 
if  I  had  relinquished  the  stage  for  the  life  of  a  religionist, 
it  should  be  considered  as  a  testimony  in  my  favor.  With 
regard  to  song-singing,  while  music  makes  a  part  even  of 
divine  worship,  a  sentimental  song  could  not  be  supposed 
detrimental  to  the  interests  of  morality."  I  requested  to 
know  if  there   were   any  other  charges ;  and  was  answered 


LIFE    OF   EEV.    JOH^    MUHJiAY.  257 

with  a  murmur  of  applause,  "  None,  sir,  none."  The  tide 
no^\'  turned  in  my  favor,  and  the  people  were  astonished 
that  they  had  annexed  the  smallest  consequence  to  those 
reports. 

I  had  now  in  Newport  a  very  respectable  circle  of 
friends,  and  the  occurrence,  thus  briefly  recorded,  aug- 
mented their  affectionate  attentions.  As  a  testimony  how 
little  they  regarded  it,  they  made  a  party  to  go  out  in  a 
number  of  carriages,  and  pass  the  daj^  upon  the  island  ; 
and  most  delightfully  did  we  enjoy  ourselves.  We  left 
town  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult.  But  those  who  were 
present  at  the  examination,  mingling  with  their  fellow-citi- 
zens, gave  them  an  account  of  what  had  passed,  and  it 
was  generally  considered  as  a  plan  to  bar  their  pulpit 
against  me ;  this  irritated  them,  and  the}^  determined  it 
should  not  succeed.  They  despatched  a  message  to  me. 
I  could  not  be  found.  I  returned  in  the  evening  and  re- 
ceived, by  the  sexton  of  Doctor  Stiles'  meeting,  an  address 
signed  by  a  large  number  of  influential  characters,  ear- 
nestly requesting  I  would,  upon  that  evening,  deliver  a 
lecture.  I  consented.  The  bell  announced  my  consent. 
The  congregation  assembled,  and  the  house  was  very  full. 
I  selected  my  subject  from  Isaiah:  "Who  hath  believed 
our  report?"  I  was  divinely  supported.  My  heart  was 
very  full.  Gratitude  glowed  in  my  bosom,  gratitude  to 
that  Being,  who  had  upon  this  as  well  as  upon  many  former 
occasions  so  conspicuously  appeared  for  me. 

Among   other  valuable  acquisitions  which  crowned   my 

labors  in  Newport  was  the  friendship  of  Mr.,  afterwards 

General,  Varnum,    who    gave    me,    upon    the    succeeding 

morning,  a  letter  to   Mr.   N.   Brown,  of  Providence,  for 

which   place  I  departed.     Mr.  Brown   received    me   with 
17 


258  LIFE   OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

much  civilit}',  and  distinguished  me  b}"  many  acts  of  kind- 
ness. The  Rev.  Mr.  Snow's  meeting-house  was  thrown 
open.  The  congregations  in  Providence  were  large.  I  ac- 
quired many  respectable  friends,  and  my  visit  was  truh' 
pleasing.  I  contemplated  extending  my  tour  as  far  as 
Boston  ;  but,  the  season  being  far  advanced,  I  postponed 
my  purpose,  and  hastened  back  to  my  pleasant  home. 
Visiting  mj  friends  upon  the  road,  I  did  not  reach  the 
dwelling  of  my  patron  until  the  winter  was  at  the  door. 
This  enduring  friend  began  to  fear  he  should  eventually 
lose  me.  And,  in  truth,  the  pressing  calls  made  upon  me 
allow^ed  me  but  little  leisure  to  tarr}^  with  him.  In  the 
course  of  this  winter  I  made  man}'  visits.  But  my  little 
stock  of  mone}-  was  nearl}'  exhausted.  Had  I  consented 
to  the  mode  of  collecting  then  in  practice,  such  was  the 
zeal  of  my  hearers  that  I  might  have  amassed  large  sums. 
But  I  had  no  famil3\  I  did  not  want  mone3^  I  believed 
I  should  be  less  obnoxious  as  a  preacher,  if  I  levied  no 
taxes  upon  the  people ;  and  I  was  ambitious  of  being  able 
to  ask,  "  Whose  ox  or  whose  ass  have  I  taken?"  Still,  as 
I  proceeded,  the  rancor  of  the  clergy  pursued  me.  This 
pained  me  to  the  soul,  and  I  have  passed  many  agonized 
hours  originating  from  this  inveterate  source.  I,  however, 
veiled  those  scenes  of  sorrow  from  the  eye  of  the  man}-. 
In  fact,  when  engaged  in  conversation,  I  so  unreservedly 
enjoyed  my  friends,  that  I  ceased  for  the  time  being  to  re- 
flect upon  my  enemies  or  their  enmity.  I  never  left  homo 
without  increasing  both  the  number  of  my  friends  and  my 
enemies ;  and  thej^  were,  individuall}^  and  collective!}-, 
very  much  in  earnest,  while  every  attempt  to  oppose  the 
progress  of  truth  became,  in  the  hand  of  God,  subservient 
to  the  purpose  of  opening  the  eyes  of  the  people. 


LIFE    OF  BEV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  2p9 

I  think  it  was  in  the  Januaiy  of  1773  that  a  most  im- 
portunate solicitation  drew  me  to  Philadelpliia ;  and,  hav- 
ing frequently  visited  that  cit}',  I  had  man}'  opportunities 
with  strangers  collected  there.  Many  bore  with  them  to 
their  respective  homes  such  an  account  of  m}^  doctrine 
and  my  manner  as  excited  much  curiosit}'.  I  was  re- 
peatedly and  earnestly  urged  to  proceed  to  Maryland.  An 
eminent  ph\'sician,  b}'  repeated  letters,  reiterated  his  solici- 
tatioi-:  A  sense  of  dut}'  imperiously  insisted  upon  my 
accepting  every  invitation  of  the  kind  to  the  extent  of  my 
power,  and  I  consequently  determined  upon  an  immediate 
commencement  of  m}^  journey  to  Maryland.  Accordinglj- 
my  horse  was  produced  at  the  door,  when  it  occurred  to  me 
that  I  had  no  mone}^  "Well,  and  what  then?"  said  I. 
*'  You  will  not  think  of  a  journe}^  in  such  circumstances?" 
said  cold-hearted  Prudence.  "I  certainly  will." — "But 
how  are  you  to  get  through  a  strange  countr}^  in  which  you 
have  no  acquaintance? "  —  "  For  shame  !  is  this  a  time  for 
these  remarks?  Do  j^ou  not  know  that  God  Almighty  can 
at  all  times,  and  in  every  place,  open  the  heart?  And 
that,  if  he  be  disposed  to  do  anything  with  me,  or  by  me, 
he  will  most  assuredly  bring  me  on  my  way?"  —  "But  had 
you  not  better  let  your  friends  in  this  city  know  your  cir- 
cumstances? They  will  unquestionably  make  provision 
for  5'ou."  —  "But  this  would  be  leaning  upon  an  arm  of 
flesh  ;  it  would  be  making  provision  for  myself."  —  "What 
will  you  do  at  the  first  stage?  You  will  not  be  able  to 
purchase  anything  either  for  3'ourself  or  3'our  horse."  — 
"  If  I  meet  with  no  support,  I  will  return  immediately  ;  by 
this  I  shall  know  if  it  be  the  will  of  God  I  should  pro- 
ceed."—  "And  will  you  realh^  go  on  in  this  waj'?"  — 
^'Most  assuredl3\"     And  I  was  on  the  point  of  mounting 


260  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MCRRAY. 

my  horse,  when  a  gentleman  crossed  the  street.  ''Are  yon 
going  out  of  town,  sir?"  —  ^' Yes,  sir."  —  "How  far,  pray? 
Which  wa}^?"  —  *'  To  Maryland,  sir,  to  visit  a  place,  which, 
as  1  am  told,  is  eighty  miles  from  this  city."  —  "Are  j^ou 
going  alone,  sh'?"  —  "I  am,  sir."  —  "I  wish  I  had  known 
of  your  determination  one  hour  since,  I  would  certainly 
have  accompanied  3'ou  part  of  tht;  way."  —  "Well,  sir,  you 
can  do  that  now ;  if  you  please,  I  will  wait  an  hour."  — 
"Will  you?  Then  I  will  get  ready  as  soon  as  possible." 
The  gentleman  was  punctual.  In  less  than  an  hour  he 
was  on  horseback,  and  we  commenced  our  journey  to- 
gether. We  passed  on  to  Chester,  delighted  with  our  ride, 
and  dined  luxuriantly  at  one  of  the  best  inns  in  the 
country.  Here  I  expected  my  fellow-traveller  would  quit 
me.  And  prudence  again  questioned :  "  Will  jou  not 
either  return  or  make  known  3'our  situation?" — "I  will 
do  neither.  I  will  trust  in  the  Lord,  and  sta}^  upon  the 
God  of  my  salvation."  Our  horses  were  ordered  out ; 
again  we  proceeded  together^  and  our  conversation  was 
interesting,  animated,  delightful.  In  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon,  we  made  a  second  stage.  "  Here,"  said  m}^ 
companion,  "  I  had  determined  to  leave  you,  but  I  find  I 
am  not  able  ;  I  must  proceed."  We  went  on  until  evening 
when  we  put  up  at  the  house  of  a  friend  of  my  fellow- 
traveller,  in  Newark.  This  town  contained  an  academ}'^, 
in  the  hall  of  which  I  afterwards  preached.  We  spent  the 
night  most  agreeabl}^ ;  and,  although  I  expected  to  pursue 
the  residue  of  my  journey'  alone,  my  slumbers  were  un- 
broken through  the  night,  and  I  arose  happy  in  the 
thought  that  I  was  enabled  to  cast  m}^  care  upon  God. 
Here,  m}'  friend,  after  commending  me  to  the  protection 
of  Heaven,  bade  me  adieu.     I  tarried  until  breakfast  was 


LIFE    OF  REV.   JOHN  MURRAY.  261 

over,  when  I  requested  m}'  horse  :  it  was  brought  to  the 
door.  I  took  the  bridle  in  m}'  hand.  Prudence  again  was 
read}^  with  her  expostulations.  ''  Well,  and  what  are  you  to 
do  now?  You  have  been  thus  far  brought  on  by  an  obliging 
friend  ;  3'ou  have  fifty  miles  more  to  ride,  through  a  coun-. 
tr}',  not  an  individual  in  which  3^ou  have  ever  seen,  and  you 
have  not  ix  penny  in  your  pocket. ^^  Again,  I  say,  "Am  I  not 
here,  as  in  Philadelphia,  under  the  care  of  that  beneficent 
Being  who  holds  the  universe  in  his  hands?  I  will  go  on." 
Just  as  I  raised  my  foot  to  the  stirrup,  the  master  of  the 
house  appeared.  "  One  word,  sir,  if  you  please  ;  step  in  for 
a  moment."  I  once  more  entered  the  hospitable  dwelling. 
"You  will,  I  hope,  excuse  me,  sir;  but,  ever  since  I  left 
my  bed  this  morning,  I  have  been  strongly  excited  to  do 
what,  however,  I  am  afraid  to  mention,  and  what  I  had 
concluded  I  would  not  venture  to  do.  But  when  I  saw  3'ou 
in  the  act  of  mounting  j^our  horse,  I  could  no  longer  with- 
stand an  irresistible  impression,  which  impels  me  to  ask 
your  acceptance  of  this  trifle  ;  "  putting  into  ni}'  hands 
abundantl}^  sufficient  to  bring  me  to  the  end  of  my  journey. 
*'  You  ma}^  not  want  this,  sir  ;  but  you  may  meet  with  some 
individual  who  does."  Could  my  spirit,  at  this  moment, 
forbear  ecstatic  prostration  before  the  throne  of  my  God 
and  Father?  This  was  manifestly  another  instance  of  the 
interposition  of  my  divine  Master.  It  was  he  who  has  the 
hearts  of  all  in  his  hand,  that  had  thus  disposed  the  heart 
of  this  man.  I  could  not  forbear  felicitating  him  on  being 
appointed  to  distribute.  I  communicated  to  him  my  real 
circumstances,  while  tears  of  pleasure  gushed  into  his  eyes. 
He  would  then  have  made  an  addition  to  the  gratuity  ;  but 
this  I  resolutely  refused.  I  had  enough  for  m}^  present 
purpose,  and  more  than  enough  would  have  been  burden- 


262  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

some.  I  went  on  from  this  place,  with  inexpressible  de- 
light, my  soul  warmly  disposed  to  magnif}^  the  Lord,  and 
to  trust  him  at  all  times,  not  being  afraid.  My  faith  bj' 
these  manifestations  thus  invigorated  and  renewed,  I 
rejoiced  in  the  good . pleasure  of  m}^  God;  m}'  way  was 
made  clear  before  me,  and  I  nothing  doubted  that  my  jour- 
ney would  be  crowned  with  success.  This  day  was  indeed 
a  happ3^  day.  I  shall  certainly  never,  so  long  as  memory 
shall  continue  its  office,  recur  to  it  without  the  most  pleas- 
urable emotions. 

Upon  the  evening  of  this  memorable  day  I  arrived  at  the 
end  of  my  journey,  and  I  was  received  by  the  phj^sician, 
whose  letter  of  earnest  solicitation  had  brought  me  thus  far, 
with  man}^  demonstrations  of  joy.  I  was,  however,  greatly 
surprised  to  find  a  person,  who  I  understood  was  master  of 
a  large  fortune,  plain,  if  not  penurious,  both  in  his  house, 
furniture,  and  apparel ;  but,  if  I  was  disappointed  by  the 
appearance  of  the  man  and  his  dwelling,  I  was  abundantly 
more  so  by  his  conversation,  from  which  I  learned  that  he 
had  been  imposed  upon  b}'  the  accounts  he  had  received  of 
me.  He  had  been  made  to  believe  I  was,  for  matter  and 
manner,  a  second  Whitefield.  My  heart  sunk,  as  I  re- 
flected what  I  had  to  expect  from  a  gentleman  thus  cir- 
cumstanced. I  beheld  before  me  a  self-righteous  Cal- 
vinist ;  and  I  believed,  when  he  discovered  (as  I  was 
determined  he  immediately  should)  the  auiount  of  m}^  testi- 
mon}' ,  he  would  sincerely  repent  that  he  had  summoned  me 
to  his  abode,  and  that  1  should,  in  consequence,  have  much 
to  suffer.  The  house  aff^orded  no  spare  bed,  and,  of  course, 
I  lodged,  I  cannot  say  slept,  with  my  host.  The  whole 
niijht  was  devoted  to  conversation,  and  I  embraced  the  first 
pause  to  inform  him,  that  I  once  viewed  the  Deity,  and  the 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY,  263 

creature  man,  preciselj^  as  they  now  appeared  to  him  ;  but 
that  a  complete  revolution  had  been  wrought  in  my  mind. 
"  Sir,  I  once  believed  the  faithful  Creator  had  called  into 
existence  by  far  the  greatest  number  of  human  beings,  with 
no  other  intention  than  to  consign  them  to  endless  misery, 
rescuing  onlj-  a  few  respected  persons  from  a  state  of  sin 
and  suffering.  You  will,  my  dear  sir,  probably  regret  that 
you  have  invited  me  hither,  when  I  inform  you  that  the 
Christ  in  whom  I  trust,  and  the  gospel  which  I  preach,  is  not 
the  Christ  of  whom  yoxx  expected  to  hear,  nor  the  gospel  3'ou 
supposed  I  should  preach.  The  Christ  in  whom  I  formerly 
confided  was  a  partial  Saviour ;  but  the  Christ  in  whom  I 
now  trust  is  the  Saviour  of  the  world.  The  gospel  3'ou 
have  been  accustomed  to  hear,  and  which  3'ou  expected  T 
should  preach,  is  a  partial  gospel,  convening  the  glad 
tidings  of  eternal  life  in  Christ  Jesus  only  to  an  elected  few. 
The  gospel  I  preach  is  glad  tidings  to  every  individual  of 
the  human  race  ;  assuring  them  that  in  Christ,  the  promised 
seed,  all  the  nations,  all  the  families  of  the  earth  shall  be 
blessed.  I  fear,  sir,  that  not  being  accustomed  to  the  minis- 
try of  the  reconciliation,  committed  to  the  apostles,  to  wit, 
that  God  was  in  Christ  reconciling  the  world  unto  himself, 
not  imputing  unto  them  their  trespasses  ;  that,  when  all  man- 
kind like  sheep  had  gone  astray,  the  Lord,  the  offended  God, 
laid  upon  Jesus  the  iniquities  of  us  all,  that  he  might  put 
them  away  b}'  the  sacrifice  of  himself,  thatthe}^  might  thus, 
as  a  millstone,  be  cast  into  the  depths  of  the  sea,  and  be  found 
no  more  at  all ;  that  Jesus,  thus  performing  the  will  of  God, 
the  world  may  ultimately  behold  him  in  his  true  character, 
as  the  Lamb  of  God,  who  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world  ; 
thus  becoming  the  Saviour  of  all  men,  —  not  i?i,  but  from 
their  sins  ;  —  I  fear,  my  good  sir,  that  when  you   hear  me 


264  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

thus  preaching  the  gospel,  which  God  himself  preached  to 
Abraham,  and  which  he  testified  by  the  mouth  of  all  his 
holy  prophets  ever  since  the  world  began,  your  disappoint- 
ment will  be  grievous.  I  know,  sir,  you  have  not  been  ac- 
customed to  hear  of  Universal  Love,  of  boundless  compas- 
sion ;  and  these  sounds  may  make  \o\i  as  angr}^  as  the}' 
have  made  man}'  of  our  brethren  in  every  age."  Here  I 
made  a  full  pause,  continuing  for  a  few  moments  in  painful 
suspense.  I  was,  however,  soon  relieved.  "No,  sir,  you 
have  nothing  to  fear  from  me ;  for  although  the  things  of 
which  you  speak  have  never  entered  into  m}'  head  or  heart, 
yet  give  me  leave  to  assure  3'ou,  it  will  never  give  me  pain 
to  know  that  God's  w^ays  are  not  as  my  ways,  nor  his 
thoughts  as  my  thoughts.  My  mind  is  so  far  from  revolt- 
ing at  the  tidings  3'ou  bear,  that  nothing  would  give  me 
more  unutterable  joy  than  to  be  assured  of  their  truth." 
Thus  was  m}'  mind  exonerated  from  a  weight  of  dread  ap- 
prehension. I  asked  him  what  assurance  he  could  either 
wish  for  or  expect?  ''^  Nothing  more  than  a  'Thus  saith 
the  Lord.' "  I  continued,  through  the  residue  of  the 
night,  preaching  the  gospel,  according  to  the  Scriptures  ; 
and  it  pleased  Almighty  God  so  to  furnish  my  mind  with 
testimonies  drawn  from  the  sacred  volume,  that  I  went  on, 
from  Genesis  to  Revelation,  until  the  morning  dawned 
upon  us.  But  a  brighter  morning  dawned  upon  the  long- 
benighted  mind  of  my  wondering  hearer;  he  exhibited, 
what  he  said  he  experienced,  rapture  before  unknown.  He 
was,  indeed,  as  one  brought  out  of  darkness  into  marvel- 
lous light,  and  from  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God.  I  never 
before  saw  so  great  a  change  wrought  in  so  short  a  time. 
He  gave  me  a  sketch  of  his  life,  which  had  been  emplo3'ed 
in  seeking  to  accumulate  riches  and  righteousness.     The 


LIFE    OF  EEV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  265 

former  he  bad  gained,  but  the  latter  be  bad  not ;  and  be 
was  constrained  to  confess  tbat  if  tbe  wealtb  be  bad  taken 
sucb  unwearied  pains  to  obtain  and  to  keep  were  no  better 
in  tbe  sigbt  of  man  than  his  righteousness  was  in  his  own 
estimation,  and  in  the  estimation  of  bis  God,  be  had  been 
all  his  life  laboring  in  vain,  and  spending  bis  strength  for 
nought.  By  commerce,  and  the  practice  of  physic,  tbe 
doctor  bad  acquired  a  fortune  of  forty  thousand  pounds 
sterling ;  yet  from  tbe  appearance  of  tbe  man,  we  should 
have  concluded  bis  resources  extremely  limited.  His 
offspring  were  onh^  one  son  and  one  daughter  ;  bis  wife  was 
no  more  ;  bis  son  a  prodigal  ;  his  daughter,  a  married  wo- 
man, in  eligible  circumstances,  and  of  a  most  amiable 
character.  The  doctor  was  far  advanced  in  life,  and  al- 
though be-  had  been  uniforml}^  employed  in  getting  and 
hiding  money,  3'et  be  was  so  religious  a  man  as  to  part  with 
four  hundred  pounds  sterling  toward  building  a  meeting- 
bouse  ;  and  he  was  greatl}^  mortified,  at  not  being  able  to 
obtain  permission  for  me  to  preach  therein,  though  he  went 
so  far  as  to  assure  those  who  had  the  care  of  the  house, 
tbat  he  would  put  it  in  complete  repair,  if  he  might  be  in- 
dulged with  the  pleasure  of  bearing  w-bom  he  pleased  in  the 
pulpit,  when  it  was  not  otherwise  occupied.  But  the  Pres- 
bytery had  given  orders  tbat  no  person  should  be  admitted 
into  any  of  their  meetings  without  a  letter  of  license,  first 
bad  and  obtained  from  that  body.  "  So,"  said  the  doctor, 
''  let  God  send  b}^  whom  he  will  send,  the  sent  of  God  can 
obtain  no  admission  ;  but  those  whom  the  Presbytery  think 
proper  to  send  must  be  admitted  ever3^where  !  Is  not  this 
Y2ix\k priestcraftV  But  although  tbe  doors  of  ever}^  house 
of  worship  in  that  neighborhood  w^ere  shut  against  us,  many 
private  houses  were  devoted  to  us,  and  the  doctor  was  inde- 


266  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

fiitigable  in  striving  to  spread  abroad  the  savor  of  the  Re- 
deemer's name.  His  soul  was  so  highly  wrought  by  the  dis- 
coveries he  had  made,  that  he  most  ardently  desired  to  make 
all  men  acquainted  with  the  grace  in  which  they  stood. 

The  doctor  was  a  man  of  uncommon  abilities  ;  his  mind 
was  highly  cultivated  ;  I  never  knew  a  finer  speaker.  He 
was  well  acquainted  with  the  religion  of  the  world,  and 
possessing  a  happy  facility  of  manifesting  his  knowledge, 
when  it  pleased  God  to  show  him  his  salvation,  —  when  he 
had  power  given  him  to  believe  with  his  heart  the  word  of 
God,  which  giveth  life  unto  all  men,  —  from  the  abun- 
dance of  his  believing  heart,  his  mouth  became  full  of  the 
praises  of  his  God ;  and  wherever  he  went,  so  often  as 
opportunity  offered,  he  delighted  to  magnify  the  name  of 
the  Redeemer  ;  spreading  far  and  wide,  to  the  utmost  of  his 
abilities,  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  the  glad  tidings  of  the 
gospel.  Ever^^body  who  knew  the  man  was  astonished  ; 
for,  strange  to  tell,  he  became  liberal,  —  liberal  of  that  with 
which  he  had  heretofore  found  it  so  difficult  to  part ;  he 
could  part  with  his  money  ;  and,  among  numerous  instances 
of  his  generosity,  I  myself  was  an  example.  He  saw  my 
vestments  were  rather  worn,  —  they  could  not  last  always,  — 
and  he  ordered  me  a  complete  suit  of  superfine  broadcloth. 
I  looked  at  the  doctor,  at  his  garments  much  worse  than  mine. 
''  I  am  reall}'  astonished,"  said  I.  "  Not  more  than  I  am  my- 
self, sir.  I  have  for  a  whole  year  been  perfectly  aware  that 
I  wanted  raiment,  yet  I  could  not  find  it  in  my  heart  to 
purchase  even  those  articles  of  which  I  stood  in  most  need  ; 
but,  sir,  I  do  indeed  behold  my  former  self  with  detesta- 
tion." I  continued  with  the  doctor  for  several  weeks.  He 
accompanied  me  from  place  to  place,  enjoying  abundantly 
more  than  tlie  world    could  give  or   take   away  ;   and  his 


LIFE    OF  REV.   JOHN  MURRAY.  267 

numerous  connexions  were  partakers  of  his  felicity.  For 
mj'self,  I  bad  rich  opportunities  of  preaching  the  gospel  of 
the  kingdom,  and  my  pleasures  were  proportioned  to  the 
satisfaction  which  I  was  instrumental  in  communicating ; 
but  it  became  necessar}^  I  should  return  to  Philadelphia, 
and  the  doctor  was  exceedingl}'  affected  ;  j^et,  previous  to 
my  final  departure,  I  had  engaged  to  preach  at  an  Episco- 
palian church  at  some  distance,  where  it  was  believed  a 
large  concourse  of  people  would  be  assembled.  But  on 
Saturday  evening,  the  wind  being  north-west  brought  on 
so  severe  a  frost,  that  the  ensuing  da}^,  Sunda}'^,  February 
14,  1773,  w^as  by  far  the  coldest  day  I  had  ever  experi- 
enced. 

I  was,  however,  determined  to  keep  my  appointment, 
and  I  rode  six  miles  on  horseback,  accompanied  by  a  gen- 
tleman who  had  conceived  for  me  the  strongest  affection  ; 
and  we  derived  so  much  pleasure  from  the  divine  subjects 
which  engaged  our  attention,  that  we  hardl}- adverted  either 
to  the  severity  of  the  day  or  the  distance  ;  and  my  fellow- 
traveller,  in  the  fulness  of  his  heart,  declared,  did  it  depend 
upon  him,  we  would  ride  on  till  the  close  of  time,  and  then 
leap  into  eternit}'  together.  The  cold,  however,  was  suffi- 
cienth'  piercing  to  compel  us  to  assemble  in  the  school- 
house  instead  of  the  church,  where  a  large  chimney  and  a 
blazing,  hearth  hardly  kept  us  from  freezing ;  yet  was  my 
own  heart,  and  the  hearts  of  man}-  of  m}^  hearers,  warmed 
b}'  that  fire  of  divine  love  enkindled  by  the  word  and  spirit 
of  our  God  ;  which  spirit  graciously  vouchsafed  to  take  of 
the  things  qf  Jesus  and  show  them  unto  us,  giving  us  not 
onl}^  peace,  but  joy,  unspeakable  joy,  in  believing.  I  pro-^ 
posed  departing  for  Philadelphia  on  the  following  Monday  ; 
but  the  doctor  and  his  friends  prevailed  upon  me  to  tarrjr 


268  LIFE    OF  REV.  JOHN  MURRAY. 

a  day  or  two  longer,  in  which  time  he  labored  hard  to  per- 
suade me  to  continue  with  him.  "  Only,"  said  he,  "  con- 
sent to  abide  here,  and  I  will  very  cheerfully  build  for  you 
as  handsome  a  church  as  an}"  in  the  countr}',  and  it  shall 
be  your  own.  I  will  devote  ten  of  the  fort}'  thousand 
pounds  which  I  possess  to  this  purpose.  T  thanked  him 
most  cordially  for  his  flattering  offer  ;  but  added  that  the 
tender  of  his  whole  estate  would  be  no  temptation  to 
me  to  accept  a  permanent  residence.  My  mind  was  at 
that  time  solemnly  impressed  by  a  conviction  that  I  was 
sent  put  to  preach  the  gospel ;  and  that,  as  the  servant  of 
God,  I  must  neither  loiter  by  the  way,  nor  seek  to  evade 
the  spirit  of  my  commission.  An  imposing  sense  of  duty 
•compelled  me  to  say  that,  so  long  as  I  was  able,  I  would 
submit  to  the  will  of  my  Master.  Upon  the  night  previous 
to  my  departure  we  had  little  sleep.  We  expatiated  with 
pleasing  wonder  upon  the  mysterious  ways  of  Heaven,  and 
we  poured  out  our  souls  in  prayer  to  that  God,  who,  having 
brought  us  together,  had  caused  us  to  drink  into  one  spirit. 
The  morning  came,  when,  after  commending  ourselves  to 
God  and  to  the  word  of  his  grace,  I  was  on  the  point  of 
depnrting,  in  the  same  manner  I  had  left  Philadelphia,  yet 
without  even  the  vestige  of  apprehension.  But  the  doctor, 
taking  me  by  the  hand,  essayed  to  articulate  ;  but  was 
necessitated  to  pause  for  self-possession,  when  he  said, 
^'God  forever  bless  you,  and  be  with  you,  and  wherever 
you  go  make  your  way  plain  before  you  ;  and,  if  we  never 
meet  again  in  this  world  (for  I  am  an  old  man,  you  know), 
I  rejoice  in  the  assurance  that  we  shall  meet  in  the  presence 
of  God,  our  Saviour,  and  spend  an  eternity  together.*'  He 
then  put  into  my  hand  gold  sufficient,  abundantly  sufficient, 
to  bear  my  expenses   even  to  the  dwelling  of  my  patron. 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  269' 

"You  may  want  this  upon  the  road,"  said  he  ;  "  take  this 
as  a  memento  of  friendship."  —  '*  I  am,  dear  sir,  amazed  at 
your  liberalit}'." —  "  I,  also,  am  amazed.  It  is  the  Lord's 
doings,  and  truly  it  is  marvellous  in  my  eyes."  Thus 
closed  my  visit  to  m}-  worth}'  friend,  after  I  had  promised 
that,  should  it  please  God,  I  would  cheerfully  visit  him 
again. 

On  ray  return,  being  earnestly  solicited,  I  preached  in 
the  hall  of  the  academy  at  Newark ;  and  I  once  more 
reposed  under  the  roof  of  that  hospitable  man,  who  was 
made  the  instrument  of  administering  to  my  necessities  on 
my  waj^  At  Wilmington,  too,  I  delivered  my  message  ; 
and,  elevated  by  an  excursion  which  had  been  so  greatly 
blessed,  I  returned  to  Philadelphia  in  perfect  health  and 
high  spirits.  During  the  residue  of  the  spring,  the  whole 
of  the  succeeding  summer,  and  a  part  of  the  autumn,  until 
October,  1773,  m}^  time  was  divided  between  Pennsylvania, 
the  Jerseys,  and  New  York.  My  friends  were  to  be  found 
among  every  class  of  people,  from  the  highest  to  the  most 
humble,  and  almost  every  day  increased  the  number  both 
of  my  friends  and  enemies.  The  clergy  continued  a  pha- 
lanx of  opposition.  One  good  man  stumbled  upon  a  most 
ingenious  device.  A  Mr.  Still,  a  Baptist  priest,  wrote  a 
most  elaborate  letter,  in  which  he  charged  me  with  many 
crimes,  assuming  as  facts  those  reported  crimes^  which  my 
soul  abhorred.  This  letter  he  read  in  every  company  in 
which  he  mixed  ;  sent  copies  of  it  to  New  England,  and 
various  other  parts  of  the  country  ;  giving  those  to  whom 
he  made  his  communications  to  understand  that  he  had 
forwarded  this  letter  to  me,  although  /  never  saiv  it,  and 
was  indebted  for  an  account  of  its  contents  to  some  worth}' 
individuals,  who  were  among  the  number  of  those  to  whom 


270  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

it  was  read.  Thus  did  this  man  industriou«l3"  essay  to 
prejudice  the  minds  of  tlie  people,  trusting  that  their  hatred 
of  me  and  my  testimony  would,  if  possible,  be  commensu- 
rate with  his  own  ;  and  thus,  at  his  righteous  tribunal,  I  was 
tried  and  condemned,  and,  as  far  as  he  could  prevail,  exe- 
cuted, without  being  suffered  to  plead  in  my  own  defence, 
or  even  furnished  with  a  copy  of  the  allegations  against  me. 
Had  I  not  reason  to  supplicate,  "Grant  me,  O  my  God! 
patient  resignation,  and  the  divine  light  of  th}"  countenance"  ? 
Yet  the  character,  priest  and  adversar}",  did  not  always 
prove  synonymous.  A  clerg3'man,  upon  a  memorable  even- 
ing, entered  a  house  of  public  worship  in  which  I  was 
promulgating  the  truth  as  it  was  in  Jesus.  He  presented 
himself  with  a  determination  to  oppose  me  ;  but,  quitting 
the  church  and  entering  mj-  lodgings,  he  folded  me  in  his  arms, 
•exclaiming  (while  his  eye  glistened  with  pleasure),  "  If  this 
be  heres}',  may  I  so  worship  the  God  of  m}^  fathers  during 
the  residue  of  mj''  da3's."  Nor  was  this  a  solitar}^  instance  ; 
Mr.  Duchee,*  minister  of  the  established  church  of  Phila- 

*  We  have  recently  seen  an  anecdote  of  Rev.  Mr.  Duchee,  published  in  the 
"  Philadelphia  Liberalist,"  of  Nov.  24,  1832.  It  occurs  in  an  obituary  notice  of 
Mr.  Anthony  Cuthbert,  one  of  the  early  Universalists  of  that  city. 

"  Parson  Duchee,  of  the  Episcopal  church,  was  an  intimate  acquaintance  and 
friend  of  Mr.  C.'s  father,  and  often  visited  him.  They  held  frequent  conferences 
in  a  private  room;  and  it  was  a  considerable  time  before  Mr.  C.  could  ascertain 
the  object  they  had  in  view.  He  at  length,  in  the  absence  of  his  father,  entered 
the  apartment  to  which  they  so  frequently  retired,  and  found  on  the  table  Paul 
Siegvolck's  '  Everlasting  Gospel '  (an  edition  of  which  had  been  printed  at  Ger- 
mantown,  in  1753,  by  Christopher  Sower,  and,  as  was  supposed,  at  the  suggestion 
of  Dr.  George  De  Renneville).  Mr.  C.  subsequently  learned  from  his  father, 
that  Mr.  Duchee  and  himself  entertained  no  doubt  of  the  truth  of  the  doctrine 
maintained  by  Siegvolck ;  but  they  thought  the  time  had  not  then  arrived  for 
the  public  proclamation  of  the  sentiment.  Mr.  C.  thought  differeutly;  and,  on 
all  suitable  occasions,  expressed  his  belief  in  the  final  reconciliation  of  all  tilings 
to  the  dominion  of  love. 

"  It  is  more  than  probable  that  Mr.  C.  was  one  of  the  hearers  and  friends  of 


LIFE    OF  REV,    JOHN  MURRAY.  271 

delpliia,  Mr.  Tretard,  of  New  Rochelle.  Mr.  Gano  of  New 
York,  Mr.  T3'ler,*  Episcopalian  minister  of  Norwich,  were 
among  the  number  of  those,  who,  if  they  were  not  full}'  with 
me  in  sentiment,  have  uniforml}'  discharged  toward  me  the 
dut}'  of  Christian  friends.  Mj'  opportunities  of  observing 
uncommon  characters  were  multiplied.  I  regret  that  the 
limits  I  have  prescribed  to  myself  will  not  permit  me  to 
dwell  upon  the  life  and  virtues  of  Thomas  Sa\',  of  Philadel- 
phia ;  a  man  who,  it  may  be  said,  revisited  this  world,  after 
being  privileged  with  more  than  a  bird's-eye  view  of 
another.!  Anthony  Benezet  might  also  claim  many  pages.  J 
Christopher  Marshall ;  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Wright,  and 
her  uncommon  family ;  many  shades   of  departed  friends 


John  Murray,  on  the  first  arrival  in  Philadelphia  of  that  eminent  servant  of 
the  Lord,  in  1772  or  '73."  —  T.  W. 

*  Rev.  John  Tyler.  He  continued  until  his  death  pastor  of  the  church  in  Nor- 
wich, (Conn.).  He  published  anonymously  six  discourses  in  favor  of  Mr.  Murray's 
sentiments,  entitled  "  Universal  Damnation  and  Salvation  clearly  proved  by  the 
Scriptures  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments."  They  form  a  very  interesting  de- 
fence of  Universalism,  upon  the  Rellyan  principles.  —  Mod.  Hist.  Universatism, 
p.358.  — T.  ^V. 

t  Thomas  Say  was  a  Universalist.  —  See  his  Life,  written  by  his  son,  Phil., 
1796,  pp.  5,  44,  93,  94,  105,  and  others.  He  was  a  highly  benevolent,  and,  in  other 
respects,  good  man,  but  of  a  visionary  mind.  "When  a  young  man  he  supposed 
himself  to  have  had  a  trance,  in  whicli  he  visited  the  abode  of  the  blessed  on 
high,  but  was  not  permitted  to  remain.  A  full  account  is  given  of  this  in  the 
book  to  which  we  have  referred,  with  the  proofs  to  which,  if  any  one  has  a  desire 
to  examine  the  subject,  I  direct  his  attention.  —  T.  W. 

JMr.  Murray  had  reason  to  congratulate  himself  on  the  acquaintance  and 
friendship  of  Benezet.  He  was  a  citizen  of  Philadelphia,  and  an  eminently  good 
man.  His  life  was  spent  in  the  education  of  youth.  He  was  author  of  a  "  Cau- 
tion to  Great  Britain  and  her  Colonies,"  1767,  "  An  Historical  Account  of  Guinea, 
with  an  Inquiry  on  the  Slave-trade,"  1772,  8vo.  His  whole  life  was  employed  in 
acts  of  charity,  and  his  death,  therefore,  was  universally  lamented.  Several 
hundred  negroes  attended  his  funeral;  and  an  American  officer,  who  had  been 
engaged  in  the  continental  war,  returning  from  his  funeral,  exclaimed,  "  that  he 
had  rather  be  Anthony  Benezet,  in  that  coffin,  than  George  Washington  \vith  all 
his  glory.  '  — T.  W. 


272  LIFE    OF  EEV.   JOHN  MURRAY, 

flit  before  me,  but  I  must  hasten  from  the  now  beatified 
group,  and  pursue  the  sometimes  rugged  path,  over  which 
the  journey  of  life  hath  conducted  me. 

Upon  the  10th  of  October,  1773, 1  embarked  on  board  the 
Humbird,  Captain  Lawton,  for  Newport,  which  place  we 
reached  at  early  breakfast,  and  where  I  was  received  in  a 
manner  comporting  with  my  most  sanguine  wishes.  Belcher, 
Warner,  Otis,  Newton,  Wright,  Wanton,  Waterhouse, 
Ellery,  etc.,  etc.,  these  all  received  me  with  open  arms  ; 
but  having  reason  to  believe  nluch  confusion  would  result 
from  an  attempt  to  open  the  doors  of  the  meeting-house  in 
which  Dr.  Stiles  officiated,  I  sent  the  doctor  an  assurance 
that  I  would  no  more  enter  his  pulpit.  The  governor 
granted  the  state-house  to  the  solicitations  of  my  friends, 
and  became  himself  one  of  my  audience.  I  preached  also 
in  the  meeting-house  of  Mr.  Kelly,  and  at  the  prison.  The 
congregations  were  crowded  and  attentive. 

Newport  contains  a  synagogue,  and  the  many  Jews  col- 
lected there  pressed  to  hear.  Mr.  Lopez,  an  opulent  gen- 
tleman among  the  Jews,  celebrated  as  well  for  humanity  as 
for  mercantile  knowledge,  met  me  at  the  door  of  the  state- 
house,  and,  pressing  my  hand,  said,  "  God  Almighty  be 
with  3'ou,  sir,  and  bless  and  preserve  3^ou  wherever  you  go," 
—  giving  you  good  success  always,  he  would  have  added, 
but  his  overflowing  heart  evidently  denied  him  utterance. 
The  Jews  were  generall}^  pleased.  They  declared  they  had 
never  before  heard  so  much  in  favor  of  Christianity.  Poor 
hearts  !  They  would  see  the  things  which  belong  to  their 
peace,  if  the  appointed  time  of  the  Father  were  come.  In 
this  their  day  are  they  hidden  from  their  eyes ;  but  the 
day  of  the  Lord  cometh,  when  whatever  is  hidden  shall  be 
revealed. 


LIFE    OF  REV.   JOHN  MURRAY,  273 

I  was  solicited  to  take  up  my  abode  at  Newport,  and 
assured,  if  I  would  do  so,  a  place  of  public  worship  should 
be  erected  for  my  accommodation.  These  good  people 
learned  that  I  had  been  necessitated  to  part  with  my  horse, 
for  the  purpose  of  defraying  the  expenses  attendant  upon 
reprinting  specimens  of  apostolic  preaching,  selected  from 
the  writings  of  Mr.  Relly  ;  and  they  insisted  upon  purchas- 
ing me  another.  Nor  was  this  all.  They  helped  me  on  my 
waj',  contributing  abundantly,  by  private  gratuities^  to  the 
relief  of  my  necessities.  Mr.  Ward,  secretary  to  the  then 
province  of  Rhode  Island,  with  many  others,  were,  upon 
this  my  second  visit,  added  to  the  number  of  my  friends. 
A  member  of  Dr.  Stiles'  church  informed  me,  it  was 
aflSrmed  I  had  absolutely  said  all  men  should  he  saved.  I 
assured  him  I  had  never  said  all  men  should  he  saved.  I 
had  said  Jesus  was  and  is  the  Saviour  of  all  men  ;  and  that, 
in  the  fulness  of  time,  he  would  gather  together  all  things 
into  ONE,  —  bringing  in  his  ancient  people,  the  Jews,  and 
with  them  the  fulness  of  the  Gentiles,  —  causing  all  flesh  to 
come  and  worship  before  him,  and  making  of  Jew  and  Gen- 
tile ONE  new  man,  so  making  peace.  And  that  all  the 
kingdoms  of  the  world  should  become  the  kingdoms  of  God 
and  of  his  Christ.  I  publicly  invited  any  individual  in 
Newport,  who  had  aught  to  say  against  the  testimony  I 
delivered,  to  meet  me  in  an  open  manner,  the  Bible  in  his 
hand,  and  if  the  arguments  he  should  produce  were  more 
consistent  with  the  sacred  writings,  I  would,  upon  the  spot, 
in  the  most  unreserved  manner,  acknowledge  and  renounce 
m}^  errors. 

Quitting  Newport,  I  took  passage  for  East  Greenwich. 
A  fellow-passenger  told  me  he  had  been  informed  I  had 
said,  our  sins  were  laid  upon  the  devil ;  and  that  there  was 
18 


274  LIFE    OF  ItEV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

nothing  for  us  to  do ;  and  be  wished  to  know  if  I  believed 
either  the  one  or  the  other.  "  Certainly  not,"  I  replied  ; 
"  it  was  not  the  devil^  but  the  Redeemer^  on  whom  the  Lord 
laid  the  iniquities  of  us  all.'"  I  assured  him  we  had  man}- 
things  in  our  various  characters  to  perform,  to  which  it 
was  our  bounden  duty  to  attend  ;  and  that  those  who  con- 
tinued in  offences  would  be  experimentally  able  to  saj^ 
"  Trul}^,  the  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard ; "  for, 
assuredly,  they  would  be  chastised  with  many  stripes.  M}^ 
appearance  at  East  Greenwich  was  welcomed  by  Mr.  Var- 
num  and  others.  Several  gentlemen,  whom  I  had  not 
before  known,  called  upon  me  at  Mr.  Varnum's.  Among 
these  was  Mr.  Hawkins,  who  questioned  me,  and  appeared 
satisfied  with  my  answer.  He  introduced  me  to  his  friends, 
Mr.  Green,  etc.  I  preached  in  the  court-house  to  a  crowded 
audience.  The  superior  court  was  then  in  session  ;  the 
judges  and  the  lawyers  were  among  my  hearers.  I  was 
laboring  under  great  indisposition,  but  God  was  with  me. 
Esquire  Casey  took  me  to  his  house,  where  I  was  met  b}^ 
Judge  Potter  for  the  purpose  of  conversation.  He  said  he 
had  never  been  pleased  with  pulpit  exhibitions,  because  they 
were  so  replete  with  contradictions,  and  he  was  determined 
to  sift  me  thoroughly.  We  passed  the  night  together.  He 
performed  what  he  had  proposed  with  candor,  and  appeared 
satisfied  with  the  result.  At  parting,  he  earnestly  wished 
me  success,  and  praj^ed  that  I  might  be  preserved  from  the 
power  of  the  priest  and  the  flatterer.  This  gentleman  con- 
tinued to  evince  great  affection  for  me.  He  seemed  to 
understand  and  feel  the  power  of  the  gospel.  I  had  not 
seen  his  superior.  At  this  period  I  was  desirous  of  extend- 
ing my  tour  as  far  as  Boston ;  but,  notwithstanding  the 
repeated  manifestations  of  divine  protection  with  which  I 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN  MVJiBAT.  275 

had  been  favored,  a  reluctance  to  venturing,  on  untried 
scenes  was  graduall}-  pervading  m}'  spirit,  and  I  was  again 
read}"  to  ask,  *'  What  am  I  to  do  in  Boston  ? "  Yet  I 
added,  "  O  m}'  unbelieving  heart,  who  shall  deliver  me 
from  this  bod}-  of  sin  and  death?  Blessed  be  God,  ivho  is 
faithful.''  Passing  an  hour  at  Mrs.  Green's,  I  was  intro- 
duced to  a  lady  from  Boston,  a  Mrs.  Hubbard.  She  ques- 
tioned me  upon  the  doctrine  of  reprobation,  particularly 
that  passage  which  expressly  asserts,  "  Jacob  have  I  loved, 
and  Esau  have  I  hated."  My  answers  were  so  much  to  her 
satisfaction  that  she  gave  me  a  pressing  invitation  to  her 
house  in  Boston  ;  and,  as  I  contemplated  a  journey  thither, 
she  prayed  me  to  take  a  letter  to  Mr.  Hubbard,  and  to 
make  his  dwelling  my  abode  during  my  continuance  in  the 
metropolis  of  Massachusetts.  From  East  Greenwich  I 
proceeded  to  Pawtuxet,  delivering  my  message  in  their 
house  of  worship  ;  and  from  thence  I  repaired  to  Provi- 
dence, where  I  was  received,  by  those  who  had  before  bade 
me  welcome,  with  continued  kindness.  Immediately  on 
my  arrival,  a  summons  to  pass  the  evening  with  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Snow  was  presented  me.  I  delayed  not  to  attend  him, 
and  I  was  accompanied  by  Mr.  Binney,  a  young  gentleman 
of  great  promise.  Mr.  Snow's  parlor  was  nearly  filled  by 
the  members  of  his  church  and  cono;reo:ation.  A  lonoj  and 
solemn  pause  succeeded  the  usual  ceremonies  of  introduc- 
tion. Mr.  Snow  at  length  broke  silence  by  observing, 
*'  We  are,  sir,  perfectly  aware,  that  by  far  the  greater  part 
of  the  town  are  anxious  to  hear  you  ;  and,  as  our  house  is 
the  most  convenient,  we  presume  application  will  be  made 
for  its  use.  But  since  you  were  last  here,  a  few  of  our 
members  have  heard  strange  reports  respecting  you  (name- 
ly). That  you  believe  all  mankind  will  be  saved  ;  and  that 


276  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

the  new  birth  is  not  in  us,  hut  in  Christ.  I  have,  therefore, 
thought  proper  to  call  together  several  of  1113^  church,  that 
they  ma}'  have  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to  you,  and 
deternnuing  whether  the}"  think  proper  to  open  their  doors. 
Do  3'ou,  sir,  believe  that  all  mankind  will  be  saved?"  — 
^''  I  believe  Jesus  Christ  is  the  Saviour  of  all  men;  that,  hy 
the  grace  of  God,  he  tasted  death  for  every  man;  that  he  is 
the  propitiation  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world;  and  that  God 
was  in  Christ,  reconciling  the  world  unto  himself,  not  imput- 
ing unto  them  their  trespasses.""  — "  Well,  and  do  you 
believe  that  all  are  saved?" — "Not  as  unbelievers  ;  the}^ 
who  believe  not  are  damned." — "How,  then,  ai-e  they 
interested  in  Jesus?  "  —  "Precisely  as  they  were  in  the  first 
Adam."  — "  But  all  are  not  interested  in  Jesus  as  they 
were  in  the  first  Adam."  —  "How,  then,  doth  it  appear, 
that  as,  by  the  offence  of  one  man,  judgment  came  upon  all 
men  to  condemnation,  so  by  the  righteousness  of  one,  the  free 
gift  came  upon  all  men  to  justification  of  life?  "  —  "  And  do 
you,  sir,  believe  that,  in  consequence  of  this,  all  will  be 
finally  happy?"  —  "Do  3'ou,  sir,  believe  all  who  learn  of 
the  Father  will  be  happ}^?  "  —  "  Oh,  yes."  —  "  And  do  you 
believe  all  will  be  taught  of  God,  and  come  to  Jesus  and 
be  saved?"  —  "No,  indeed."  —  "Do  ministers  in  general 
believe  this?"  —  "No,  we  know  they  do  not."  —  "Why, 
then,  do  they  pray  for  it?  Do  they  not  pray  that  God 
would  hasten  the  happy  time  when  he  shall  bring  in  his 
ancient  people,  the  Jews,  and  with  them  the  fulness  of  the 
Gentiles  ;  that  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  ma}-  become 
the  kingdoms  of  God  and  of  his  Christ ;  that  thej^  may  all 
be  taught  of  God,  from  the  least  unto  the  greatest?  For 
this,  and  much  more,  clergymen  repeatedl}'  pl'a3^  And  can 
we  suppose  they  are  dealing  hypocritically  with  their  God? 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  277 

Are  the}"  such  monsters  of  impiet}'  as  to  solicit,  for  what 
ihe}'  believe  the  Almighty  had  determined,  before  the 
foundation  of  the  world,  he  would  never  grant?"  A  pro- 
found pause  succeeded  ;  after  which  I  was  asked,  "  Do  j^ou, 
sir,  believe  the  New  Birth  is  in  us,  or  in  Christ?"  —  ''  He 
who  is  horn  of  God  sinneth  not.  But  if  ive  say  we  have  no 
sin^  ice  deceive  ourselves,  and  the  truth  is  not  in  ns.  He  ivho 
«5  born  of  God  is  a  new  creature.  All  old  things  are  passed 
away,  and  all  things  are  become  new.  A  good  man,  out  of 
the  good  treasury  of  his  heart,  bringeth  not  forth  good  and 
evil,  but  good,  only  good.  I  conceive,  therefore,  that  to  be 
born  again,  or,  as  it  may  be  rendered,  to  be  born  anew,  or 
born  from  above,  alludes  to  the  birth  of  the  human  famil}^ 
in  the  person  of  Christ  Jesus,  we  being  members  of  his 
body.  Hence  the  sacred  record  decidedly  pronounces. 
Created  anew  in  Christ  Jesus.''  —  "Well,  that  is  Scripture, 
to  be  sure."  —  "  Are  we  Christ  Jesus  ?  " —  "  No,  certainly." 
—  "  Then,  can  being  created  anew  in  Christ  Jesus  be  under- 
stood as  being  created  anew  in  ourselves?'*  A  part  of  the 
company  discovered  great  bitterness ;  others  were  more 
calm.  I  requested  them  to  observe,  that,  if  they  reported 
me  as  a  heretic,  thev  must  remember  they  smote  me  through 
Paul's  skirts,  for  I  had  delivered  no  sentiments  of  my  own 
fabrication.  I  had  merel}'  rehearsed  in  their  ears  the 
unadulterated  language  of  revelation  I  therefore  begged 
I  might  be  honestly  reported. 

One  gentleman  declared  that  whether  I  deemed  it  honest 
or  not,  he  should  report  me  as  a  heretic.  I  then  insisted 
he  should  declare  what  heres}^  was.  He  said  I  was  against 
the  gospel.  I  requested  he  would  say  what  gospel  was. 
He  replied,  "  It  is  whatever  is  found  in  the  New  Testament." 
I  appealed  to  the  company  whether  this  was  either  fair  or 


278  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN    MURRAY, 

true  ?  whether  there  were  not  many  particulars  in  the  New 
Testament  which  were  not  gospel  ?  and  whether  the  gospel 
was  not  preached  to  Abraham?  or  whether  the  gospel  was 
not  God's  good  sajings  or  glad  tidings  to  all  people? 
whether  I  had  said  an^'thing  contrar}^  to  this,  or  proposed 
any  way  of  salvation  beside  Christ  Jesus?  or  whether  I 
had  privily  strove  to  bring  in  such  a  damnable  doctrine  as 
to  den}'  the  Lord  who  bought  them?  They  were  all 
dumb.  At  length  Mr.  Snow  said,  "  Well,  my  friends, 
you  know  the  reason  of  m}'  calling  3'ou  together,  and  3'ou 
can  now  determine  respecting  Mr.  Murray's  again  entering 
our  pulpit.  I  would  have  you  freely  deliver  your  senti- 
ments." One  said  the  people  wished  to  hear,  and  there  was 
no  house  so  convenient  as  theirs  ;  he  could  see  no  reason 
why  I  should  not  preach.  Another  objected  ;  his  con- 
science would  not  allow  him  to  consent.  A  third  remarked 
the  people  would  go  to  hear  me,  preach  where  I  would  ; 
suppose  I  was  wrong,  I  could  not  contaminate  the  house  ; 
for  his  part  he  did  not  see  that  I  had  said  anything  that 
had  been  proved  erroneous;  that  he  most  devouth' 
blessed  God  he  had  been  present,  for  he  had  received  more 
light  than  he  had  ever  before  erjoyprl  ;  and  many  united 
their  acknowledgments  with  his.  I  assured  them  it  was 
my  solemn  determination  to  preach  nothing  but  Christ 
Jesus  and  him  cruclilc'^  ^or  every  human  being.  Finally, 
they  determined  to  open  their  doors  for  my  reception  ;  and 
thus,  by  permission  of  minister  and  people,  I  again  and 
again  addressed  a  vast  multitude  from  the  pulpit  of  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Snow  of  Providence,  and  my  hearers  appeared 
serious  and  attentive. 

During    ni}'    continuance    in    Providence    I    became    ac- 
quainted with  Doctor  Huse,  of  that  place,  a  ver^-  uncommon 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  279 

man,  and,  as  it  appeared  to  me,  of  a  veiy  luminous  intellect. 
Bidding  me  God-speed  he  added,  "  Sir,  I  rejoice  that  you 
dare  be  honest.  How  long  3'ou  will  continue  so  I  know  no%. 
At  present  3'ou  are  boldly  facing  danger,  and  without 
fear.  Continue,  I  beseech  you,  to  declare  unmixed  truth, 
although  all  men  should  be  against  you."  On  the  26tli 
of  October,  1773,  I  took  a  seat  in  the  stage  for  Boston. 
Late  upon  the  evening  of  that  day  we  reached  town.  I 
had  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Hubbard,  and  another  for  a  gentle- 
man, a  Major  Paddock  ;  but  I  was  unwilling  to  disturb 
strangers  at  an  hour  so  improper  for  a  first  introduction, 
and  the  old  question  recurred,  "What  are  you  to  do  now?'* 
The  passengers  one  after  another  were  dropped.  I  remained 
alone  in  the  coach,  and  the  coachman  civill}^  questioned, 
''"Where  will  you  be  set  down,  sir?"  —  "  Can  3'ou  recom- 
mend me  to  a  decent  tavern?"  While  he  deliberated,  a 
son  of  Mrs.  Hubbard  accosted  him:  "  Is  Mr.  MurrajMn 
the  coach?"  — "  Yes,  sir."  He  approached  the  door. 
"  My  mother,  sir,  has  written  to  m}'  father  respecting  you, 
and  we  have  been  looking  out  for  3'ou  with  great  im- 
patience." All  was  immediately  settled.  And  thus  I  was 
met  in  Boston  b}'  the  good  providence  of  God,  while  my 
throbbing  heart  exclaimed,  ''  To  the  Lord  belongeth  mercy  ; 
and  praise  and  thanksgiving  are  his  righteous  due." 

B3'  Mr.  Hubbard  I  was  received  with  great  kindness.  He 
was  an  innocent,  honest  man,  and  his  familv  were  trul3' 
friendl3\  Upon  the  ensuing  morning  I  delivered  m3"  letter 
to  Major  Paddock,  whose  reception  of  me  was  such  as  a 
stranger  ought  to  expect,  coilly  civil.  He,  however,  intro- 
duced me  to  Mr.  Williams,  a  respectable,  philanthropic 
gentleman,  strongl3'  attached  to  the  writings  of  Jacob 
Behmen.     To    Mr.    Williams   I    have    most   gratefull3'   to 


280 


LIFE   OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 


ackuowledge  a  series  of  most  important  and  essential 
obligations.  Measures  were  soon  in  train  for  the  purpose 
of  procuring  a  place  in  which  I  might  be  allowed  to  deliver 
ni}^  testimou}' ;  but  every  effort  was  ineffectual,  until  the 
following  Saturday,  October  30th.  In  this  interval  I  re- 
ceived from  Mr.  Thomas  Handas3'de  Peck  a  polite  invi- 
tation to  dine.  Mr.  Peck  was  a  verj'  respectable  man,  and 
his  lady  a  most  valuable  woman ;  *  they  were  unwearied 
in  contributing,  to  the  utmost  of  their  abilities,  to  the  re- 
lief of  the  sons  and  daughters  of  sorrow.  Ranking  among 
the  admirers  of  Mr.  White  field,  they  possessed  eminently 


*  The  acquaintance  thus  formed  with  Mr.  Peck  was  the  means  of  advancing 
Mr.  Murray  rapidly  into  notice.  That  gentleman  had  been  an  admirer  of  Mr. 
Whitetield,  and,  hearing  of  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Murray,  and  of  his  having  been 
a  preacher  in  "Whitefield's  connection,  he  solicited  an  interview.  Mr.  Peck  was 
a  warm  Christian,  of  a  benevolence  easily  touched,  and  ardent  in  his  passions. 
Mr.  Murray  related,  on  his  first  interview,  an  account  of  his  lauding  at  Good 
Luck,  the  circumstances  of  his  reception  by  Potter,  and  hi.s  subsequent  labors 
and  sufferings.  By  tliis  narrative,  and  his  entertaining  manners,  his  interest- 
ing style  of  preaching,  and  the  benevolent  doctrine  he  tauglit,  he  completely 
captivated  the  family,  and  made  them  his  steadfast  friends. 

Tho.mas  H.\nd.\syde  Pecr  was  a  gentleman  of  great  integrity  and  respect- 
ability, and  was  the  maternal  grandfather  of  our  present  distinguished  citizen, 
Thomas  Handasyde  Perkins.  He  and  his  wife  wera  both  natives  of  England; 
but  on  the  breaking  out  of  the  political  difficulties  between  Great  liritain  and 
her  colonic-;,  he  espoused,  and  of  course  with  great  ardor,  thecau.-e  of  the  latter. 
Both  Mr.  Peck  and  his  wife  died  in  the  early  part  of  the  Revolution.  The  house 
in  which  he  resided,  and  in  which  Mr.  Murray  preached,  was  on  the  left-hand 
side  of  31erchants'  Row  as  you  pass  from  State  Street  to  the  market.  On  the 
western  corner  of  State  Street  and  Merchants'  Row  stood  the  Golden  Ball 
Tavern,  near  which,  going  on  toward  the  market,  a  person  would  come  to  a 
court  called  Peck's  Court;  and  at  the  head  of  this  court  stood  the  mansion  of 
the  hospitable  Thomas  H.  Peck.  He  had  been  a  hatter  by  occupation,  and  was 
familiarly  known  by  the  title  of  "  Honest  Peck,  the  hatter."  The  whigs  were 
proud  of  him,  and  this  title  was  bestowed  upon  him  in  a  ballad,  published  in 
the  midst  of  the  political  troubles. 

We  take  the  liberty  here  to  give  publication  to  the  following  letter  from 
Hon.  Thomas  H.  Perkins,  which  with  equal  readiness  and  urbanity  he  furnished 
in  reply  to  certain  queries  addressed  to  him.    We  trust  lie  will   excuse  the  use 


LIFE    OF  ItEV.    JOHX  MUJiRAT,  281 

the  characteristic  of  his  adherents,  —  they  were  abundantly 
less   bigoted    than   other   religionists.     In    the    agreeable 

we  have  made  of  his  name,  and  accept  of  this  insuflScient  acknowledgment  of 

his  kindness. 

"  Boston,  March  16,  1833. 
*'  Mr.  Thomas  Whittemore,  — 

"  Sir :  Your  letter  of  the  14th  current  was  received  on  the  day  it  was  written, 
but  I  could  not  answer  it  understandingly  witliout  consulting  my  sister,  Mrs. 
Sturgis,  who  lived  nearer  to  the  time  and  circumstances  respecting  which  you 
inquire.  My  own  recollections  are  fresh  on  the  subject  of  the  intimacy  of  the 
late  Rev.  John  Murray  in  the  family  of  my  maternal  grandfather,  but  T  am  not 
quite  sure  whether  my  recollection  carries  me  to  the  year  before  what  was 
called  The  Siege,  or  to  the  year  '76,  when  it  was  raised.  My  sister  says  slie 
recollects  the  intimacy  of  Mr.  3Iurray  in  the  family  of  Mr  Peck,  as  early  as 
1773,  being  the  year  she  was  married,  and  from  which  incident  she  is  enabled  to 
establish  the  date.  She  tells  me  that  both  our  grandparents,  and  eur  own 
parents,  professed  the  religious  principles  at  that  time  held  by  3rr.  Murray,  and 
that  they  all  died  adhering  to  that  belief.  My  grandparents  died  the  summer 
of  1776  and  1777.  Mr.  Peck  died  first.  His  residence  at  his  death,  and  for  many 
years  preceding,  was  in  a  house  which  stood  in  a  square,  approaclied  by  a  court 
leading  from  Merchants'  Row.  At  the  corner  of  this  court  was  the  Golden  Ball 
Tavern,  which  at  that  time  was  kept  by  Colonel  Marston,  who  afterwards  kept 
the  Bunch  of  Grapes  in  State  Street,  Both  those  houses  have  long  since  been 
taken  down  to  make  room  tor  improvements.  I  well  remember  that  my  grand- 
father permitted  3Ir.  Murray  to  preach  in  the  meeting-house,  then  standing  in 
School  Street,  and  that  there  were  occasional  contests  between  the  supporters 
of  Mr.  Murray,  and  those  who  opposed  him;  and  that  the  preacher  was  at  one 
time  assailed  not  only  by  vehement  speeches,  but  more  solid  arguments. 

**  I  was  too  young  to  be  able  to  judge  correctly  of  the  characters  of  those  who 
are  the  subject  of  this  letter.  The  temper  of  my  grandfather  was  irascible  and 
rather  morose;  but  lie  was  always  esteemed  for  liis  integrity.  He  was  born  in 
England,  as  was  his  wife ;  but  before  and  during  the  troubles,  as  they  were  called, 
he  sided  with,  and  was  considered  an  ultra  whig.  He  remained  in  town  during 
the  whole  time  of  the  occupancy  of  it  by  the  British,  and,  notwithstanding  his 
politics,  was  well  treated  both  by  the  governor  and  military  men. 

"  My  grandmother  has  left  a  high  character  for  piety,  and  great  liberality  to- 
ward Jill  to  whom  she  could  alford  aid,  either  in  money  or  personal  kindness,  for 
both  which  there  was  a  great  demand  during  the  blockade  of  Boston.  My  own 
mother  lives  in  the  memory  of  many  now  living;  and  the  recollection  of  her 
many  virtues  is  cherished  by  her  descendants.  One  of  the  last  conversations 
she  had  on  any  subject  was  the  day  previous  to  her  death,  with  my  wife;  and  in 
the  course  of  it  she  repeated,  what  she  had  often  before  testified,  her  belief  in  the 
doctrine  of  universal  salvation.    Respectfully  your  obedient  servant, 

"T.  H.  Pekkixs." 
T.  W. 


282  LIFE    OF  EEV.    JOHN  MUBRAY. 

family  of  Mr.  Peck,  I  passed  a  most  delightful  day.  I  re- 
lated to  them  the  manner  of  my  coming  to  the  house  of  my 
patron,  and  I  sketched  for  them  the  dealings  of  God  with 
me  since  he  had  called  me  forth.  They  listened  with  silent 
astonishment ;  and  when  I  had  finished  they  praised  God 
in  my  behalf.  They  were  evidently  pained  that  I  could 
not  obtain  a  place  in  which  to  preach  ;  and  they  added,  if 
no  other  could  be  procured,  they  would  open  their  own 
doors  for  this  purpose.  There  were  in  Boston,  at  this 
period,  a  few  individuals  who  were  immeasurabl}'  attached 
to  the  writings  of  Jacob  Behmen.  Those  persons  looked 
down  with  pity  on  all  those  they  had  left  behind,  who  were 
such  infidels  as  not  to  ascribe  honor  and  glor}'  to  the  in- 
spired pages  of  this  writer.  I  could  not  forbear  experi 
encing  great  satisfaction  from  the  consideration  that  Jesu& 
Christ  was  made  unto  me  ivisdom.  The  adherents  of 
Behmen  enjoyed  their  philosophical  divinity  very  highly,, 
delighting  to  wrap  themselves  about  in  a  mysterious  gar- 
ment of  unintelligible  jargon.  But  thus  it  must  ever  be. 
Error  will  prevail  until  the  appointed  time  of  the  Father 
shall  usher  the  benighted  mind  into  the  clear  shining  of 
the  full  meridian  of  Divine  Revelation. 

At  the  house  of  Major  Paddock  1  met  a  member  of  Mr. 
Stillman*s  church,  who  seemed  to  conceive  there  would  be 
little  difficulty  in  overthrowing  my  plan  ;  to  whom  I  ob- 
served, that  if  an}'  individual  would  unite  with  me  in  search- 
ing the  Scriptures,  I  would,  supposing  there  were  not  found 
in  the  book  of  God  more  positive  assertions  of  final  and 
universal  redemption  than  of  final  reprobation,  pledge  m}'- 
self  immediatel}^  to  surrender  m}^  present  soul-satisfying 
views.  "  No  one,"  he  replied,  "  could  take  i^leasure  in  the 
df.struction  of  mankind." — '' Wh}^  do  not  you,  sir?"  — 


\ 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  283 

"  No,  sir."  —  '•  Wh\',  sir?"  —  '•  I  wonder  3'ou  should  ask  such 
a  question."  —  '"  Wh}-,  sir,  why  should  you  not  take  pleasure 
in  that  in  which  God  takes  pleasure?" — "God  does  not 
take  pleasure  in  destruction,  sir."  —  "  What,  sir,  and  make 
individuals  on  purpose  to  destroy  them  ?  and  almighty  too, 
—  ruling  in  heaven  above  and  in  earth  beneath,  as  seemeth 
in  his  sight  good  ?  Do  you  dare  sa}',  if  you  had  powei-,  no 
fellow-creature  should  be  lost ;  and  dare  3'ou  suppose  that 
He  who  hath  all  power,  both  in  heaven  and  in  earth,  hath 
not  so  much  love  as  you,  a  finite  being?  "Will  he  say  to 
you,  '  Love  your  enemies,  do  good  to  those  who  hate  3'ou, 
and  pray  for  those  who  despitefully  use  you,'  — and  will 
he  not  do  likewise?  Shall  the  disciple  be  above  his  Master, 
and  the  servant  above  his  Lord  ? "  He  answered  with  a  sigh, 
"  I  cannot  argue  with  you,  sir ;  that  last  observation  has 
weight."  —  '•  Ah,  sir  !  "  I  continued,  ''  would  that  every  indi- 
vidual were  more  intimatel}'  acquainted  with  that  most  ele- 
vating subject,  the  love  of  God  to  man,  the  never-beginning, 
never-ending  love  of  God  to  man.  This,  sir,  is  a  species 
of  knowledge  which  doth  not  puff  up  ;  but  it  lifts  up  as  on 
eagles'  wings,  ever  mounting,  never  tiring,  but  still  dis- 
covering new  wonders  through  the  wasteless  ages  of  eter- 
nit}'.  But  man,  poor  fallen  man,  who  in  his  present  state 
is  enmity  against  God,  is  ever  measuring  the  love  and  com- 
passion of  Deit}^  by  his  own  scantjTule  ;  na3',by  a  rule  which 
he  would  blush  to  acknowledge.  I  have  frequentl3'  said  that 
there  is  not  a  person  of  character  upon  this  continent  who 
would  bear  to  be  delineated,  whatever  character  he  sustains, 
as  he  thinks  and  speaks  of  the  Most  High.  What  father 
would  choose  to  be  supposed  deficient  in  providing,  to  the 
extent  of  his  power,  ever3'  requisite  aid  to  the  beings  he 
has  been  instrumental  in  introducinsr  into  existence?     It  is- 


^84  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

•confessed  by  all  that  God  is  Almighty,  that  he  is  a  sover- 
eign, that  he  can  do,  and  will  do,  as  he  pleases,  and  that  no 
power  can  resist  his  will.  It  is  also  said  that  he  willeth 
not  the  death,  the  eternal  death  of  the  sinner ;  that  he  will- 
eth that  man  should  be  saved  ;  that  he  hath  appointed,  and 
therefore  sends  out  his  servants  to  warn  mankind,  to  call 
them  to  eternal  blessedness,  to  persuade  them  to  come.; 
that  all  things  are  now  ready.  All  this  looks  like  love  in 
God.  But  we  are  informed,  the  people  called  have  no 
knowledge  of  God  ;  that  they  are  enmity  against  God,  and 
that  not  from  a  persuasion  that  God  was  in  Christ,  recon 
ciling  them  to  himself,  but  because  they  do  not  know  this, 
and  therefore  do  not  believe  it ;  that  no  man  can  come 
unto  the  Father  but  b}^  Jesus  ;  that  no  man  can  come 
unto  Jesus  except  the  Father  draw  him ;  and  that  all  who 
learn  of  the  Father  come  unto  Jesus  ;  and  all  who  come 
unto  him  he  will  in  no  wise  cast  out.  Are  multitudes  cast 
out  forever?  Then  it  is  because  the}^  were  not  taught 
of  God  ;  for  if  they  had  learned  of  the  Father  the}'  would 
have  come  unto  Jesus,  and  he  would  in  no  wise  have  cast 
them  out.  But  did  God  attempt  to  teach  them,  and,  finding 
it  beyond  his  power,  did  he  finally  give  them  up  ?  But  is 
not  God  almighty  ?  Yes  ;  but  lie  did  not  choose  to  stretch 
forth  his  omnipotent  arm.  Why?  Because  if  he  had  the}' 
must  be  saved,  and  he  would  leave  thein  to  the  freedom  of 
their  own  will.  Did  he  not  know  the  consequence  would 
be  their  eternal  damnation?  Oh,  yes,  but  this  is  perfectly 
right ;  for  when  he  called  they  would  not  hear.  Did  he  in- 
tend they  should  hear?  We  have  nothing  to  do  with  that. 
Merciful  God  !  lift  up  the  light  of  thy  irradiating  counte- 
nance upon  the  benighted  family  of  man." 

Upon  the  evening  of  October  30,   1773,  I  preached  for 


LIFE    OF  liEV.    JOHN   MURRAY.  285" 

the  first  time  in  Boston,  in  the  hall  of  the  factory.*  My 
hearers  were  attentive,  and,  after  I  had  closed,  several  in~ 
dividuals  addressed  me,  and  with  apparent  kindness  in- 
vited me  to  visit  them  at  their  houses.  On  the  succeeding 
evening  (Sunday)  I  again  preached  in  the  hall ;  the  con- 
gregation was  too  large  for  the  place.  M3"  subject  was 
Zechariah  ix.  9.  The  people  were  more  aflfectionate  than 
on  the  preceding  evening.  Many  solicited  me  to  tarrj-, 
and  assured  me  that  a  better  place  should  be  provided  for 
my  accommodation.  On  Monda}^  evening,  November' 1st, 
I  preached  to  a  select  number  at  Mr.  Peck's,  who  seemed 
to  have  the  power  of  God  among  them.  In  consequence 
of  a  pressing  solicitation  from  this  gentleman,  I  took  up 
my  lodging  in  his  hospitable  mansion  ;  thus  goodness  and 
mercy  continuall}^  followed  me.  Fr.om  my  beloved  friend 
Binne}^,  I  received  repeated  and  affectionate  letters,  and  I 
trusted  this  young  gentleman  would  become  an  able  advo- 
cate for  the  Redeemer. 

A  Mr.  Little,  of  Newbur}- port,  united  his  earnest  solicita- 
tions with  a  number  of  gentlemen,  who  importunately 
urged  me  to  visit  that  place.  I  dared  not  refuse  ;  and, 
parting  with  my  affectionate  friends  in  Boston,  I  accom- 
panied Mr.  Little  and  others  in  the  stage  for  Newbur3'port. 
On  our  arrival,  inquiries  were  made  at  the  coach-side,  if  I 
was  there  ;  and,  on  being  answered  in  the  aflSrmative,  a 
crowd  collected.  Mr.  Parsons,  the  Presbyterian  minister, 
a  venerable-looking  gentleman,  immediately  visited  me  and 
asked  me  man}^  questions.  Where  I  came  from?  what 
clergymen  I  was  acquainted  with?  and  what  credentials  I 
could  produce?     During  his  inquiries  he  discovered,  as  it 

*This  was  a  large  building,  I  understand,  opposite  the  site  where  Park  Street 
Church  now  stands.  — T.  W. 


286  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHX  MURRAY. 

appeared  to  me,  some  uneasiness  at  the  idea  of  m}'  preach- 
ing in  his  pulpit.  I  therefore  hastened  to  inform  him  that 
I  was  no  priest,  nor  approved  of  b}^  gentlemen  of  thai 
order ;  that  I  professed  myself  somewhat  acquainted  with 
the  salvation  wrought  out  by  Jesus  Christ,  and  that,  wher- 
ever his  providence  called  me,  I  was  willing  to  speak  well 
of  the  name  of  the  Redeemer  ;  but  I  added  that  I  bad 
great  reluctance  in  speaking  in  any  place  in  opposition  to 
the  wishes  of  the  officiating  minister.  Mr.  Parsons  re- 
plied, "  The  house  was  not  his  ;  it  was  the  propert}^  of  the 
people,  and  when  it  was  not  occupied  they  had  an  indubi- 
table right  to  invite  whom  they  pleased."  Speaking  of  my 
call  to  preach,  whether  ordinar}-  or  extraordinary^,  I  observed 
I  had  both  ;  when  he  petulantly  asked,  "  Pray,  can  3'ou 
speak  with  tongues?"  —  ''It  is  possible  I  may,  sir,  with 
tongues  that  3'OU  ma}^  not  understand.  However,  j'our 
question  is  as  much  against  you  as  against  me.  Jesus 
says,  among  the  man}'  signs  that  shall  follow  those  who  be- 
lieve, they  shall  heal  the  sick  by  lajing  hands  upon  them, 
and  if  they  take  up  any  deadly  thing  it  shall  not  hurt 
them.  From  these  evidences,  sir,  perhaps  it  would  be  as 
hard  for  you  to  prove  yourself  even  a  believer,  as  for  me 
to  prove  mj'self  a  preacher  sent  of  God." 

While  we  were  3'et  conversing,  the  bell  was  rung,  and  a 
lars^e  consrresration  assembled,  amono;  which  Mr.  Parsons 
himself  attended ;  and  I  selected  for  my  subject,  Isaiah  Iv. 
10,  11.  Agreeably  to  his  earnest  request,  Mr.  Little  was 
my  host;  and  upon  the  ensuing  morning  (Saturday),  in 
consequence  of  a  very  polite  invitation,  I  breakfasted  with 
Mr.  Parsons,  and  I  was  received  by  him  and  his  ver}-  cor- 
dially ;  his  countenance  brightened  upon  me,  and  he  re- 
quested me  to  preach  again  in  his  church  on  that  day.     Nor 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHX   MURRAY.  287 

was  this  all ;  he  walked  with  me  to  the  pulpit,  and  sat  with 
me  there,  while  I  preached,  preparatory  to  the  communion, 
upon  John  xv.  12.  On  the  ensuing  day  (Sunday),  b}^  the 
request  of  Mr.  Marsh,  who  was  indisposed,  I  preached 
both  morning  and  evening  at  his  church.  Several 
friends  visited  me  at  Mr.  Little's,  and  we  closed  the  day 
with  pra^'er.  I  was  rather  surprised  to  learn  that  I  lodged 
at  Mr.  Little's  upon  the  very  same  bed  in  which  Mr.  White- 
field  had  reposed  ;  and  that  I  had  preached  in  the  pulpit 
before  which  he  was  entombed.  I  continued  in  Newbur}'- 
port,  passing  m}'  time  most  pleasantly  a  second  Sunday. 
I  preached  morning  and  evening  in  the  pulpit  of  Mr. 
Marsh.  I  gave  frequent  lectures  there,  and  in  the  meeting- 
house of  Mr.  Parsons,  who  always  sat  in  the  pulpit  with 
me,  and  frequenth*  entertained  me  most  hospitabl}^  at  his 
house.  His  lady  appeared  to  merit  a  rank  among  the  most 
accomplished  of  women  ;  she  was  highly  social,  sentimental, 
and  pleasant.  The  circle  of  my  friends  in  Newburyport 
was  very  respectable.  Upon  a  lecture-evening,  after  I  had 
closed,  an  old,  gray-headed  man,  a  member  of  Mr.  Parsons' 
church,  quitting  his  seat,  addressed  the  congregation,  and 
in  a  loud  voice  said,  "  My  friends,  this  is  a  servant  of  the 
living  God,  who  is  come  from  a  far  country,  to  proclaim 
the  glad  tidings  of  salvation.  We  have  too  long  been  in 
darkness  ;  yea,  our  tongues  have  cleaved  to  the  roofs  of 
our  mouths,  and  this  man  is  sent  to  animate  and  renew  our 
faith."  Many  blessed  God  they  had  seen  and  heard  me  ; 
and  all  this  I  imputed  to  a  want  of  knowledge,  relative  to 
the  extent  of  the  glad  tidings  I  promulgated.  The  grace, 
union,  and  membership  upon  which  I  expatiated,  were 
admitted  b\'  every  Calvinist,  but  admitted  only  for  the 
dect;  and  when  I  repeated  those  glorious  texts  of  Scripture, 


288  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

which  indisputably  proclaim  the  redemption  of  the  lost 
world,  —  as  I  did  not  expressly  say,  My  brethren,  I 
receive  these  texts  in  the  unlimited  sense  in  which  they 
are  given,  —  the}'  were  not  apprised  that  I  did  not  read 
them  with  the  same  contracted  views  to  which  the}'  had 
been  accustomed.  When  they  became  assured  of  the  mag- 
nitude and  unbounded  result  which  I  ascribed  to  the  birth, 
life,  and  death  of  the  Redeemer,  their  doors  were  fast 
closed  against  me.  For  myself,  I  was  in  unison  with  Mr. 
Relly,  who  supposed  the  gradual  dawn  of  light  would 
eventually  prove  more  beneficial  to  mankind  than  the  sudden 
burst  of  meridian  day.  Thus  I  was  contented  with  pro- 
claiming the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  in  Scripture  language 
only,  —  leaving  to  m}'  hearers  deductions,  comments,  and 
applications. 

While  I  continued  at  Newburyport,  numerous  solicita- 
tions poured  upon  me  from  various  quarters  ;  but,  in  haste 
to  return  to  Philadelphia,  I  could  only  complj'  with  the 
urgent  importunities  of  several  gentlemen  from  Portsmouth, 
to  which  place  I  journe3'ed  on  the  tenth  of  November,  1773. 
I  was  received  at  Portsmouth  with  most  flattering  marks 
of  kindness.  The  pulpit  of  the  separate  minister,  Mr. 
Drown,  then  recently  deceased,  was  thrown  open  to  me ; 
the  congregations  were  large  ;  my  adherents  were  truly  re- 
spectable, and  I  was  earnestl}'  urged  to  take  up  my  residence 
among  them.  The  meeting-house  of  Mr.  Drown  being  too 
small,  I  was  invited  into  the  pulpit  of  Dr.  Langdon,*  in 
which  I  preached,  two  clergymen  occupying  seats  therein. 
In  Portsmouth  I  received  many  marks  of  friendship.  My 
necessities  were  sought  out  and  removed  ;  and  the  name  of 

*I  have  supplied  Langdon  for  the  initial.    It  was  Rev.  Samuel  Langdon, 
D.  D.,  afterwards  president  of  Harvard  College.  —  T.  W. 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY,  289 

Clarkson,  Morrison,  Hart,  and  Drown,  son  of  the  deceased 
minister,  were  on  that  first  visit  among  my  most  partial 
friends.  I  returned  to  Newburj^port,  accompanied  by  Mr. 
Morrison  and  Mr.  Drown,  and  again  delivered  my  testimo- 
ny^ in  the  pulpits  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Parsons  and  Mr.  Marsh. 
Mr.  Parsons  requested  I  would  write  to  him  from  Philadel- 
phia;  and  on  Wednesday,  November  17th,  I  returned  to 
Boston,  where  I  learned  that  a  spirit  of  inquiry  was  in 
operation  among  my  friends  ;  that  their  Bibles  were  in  their 
hands  ;  and  that  they  were  diligently  employed  in  searching 
the  Scriptures,  to  find  whether  these  things  were  indeed  so. 
Upon  the  evening  of  the  eighteenth,  I  preached  in  the  mansion 
of  ni}'  venerable  friend,  Mr.  Peck  ;  and  I  was  distinguished 
by  him  and  his  lady  with  even  parental  kindness  ;  Mrs. 
Peck  entreating  me  to  inform  my  mother,  that  I  had  found 
in  the  New  World  a  second  maternal  friend.  It  was  upon 
this  occasion  that  I  audibl}^  exclaimed,  "  O  God  !  thou 
hast  still  continued  my  God  and  m}^  guide ;  let  me  not 
forget  to  render  praises  unto  thee." 

At  the  period  of  which  I  am  speaking,  there  were  in  Boston 
a  number  of  Deists  wiio  attended  m}^  labors.  Their  leader 
gave  me  frequent  invitations  to  visit  him.  He  summoned 
his  friends,  with  whom  he  united  in  expressing  his  abhor- 
rence of  the  Apostle  Paul.  To  this  gentleman  I  dwelt 
upon  the  respectable  proofs  by  which  the  authenticity  of 
Scripture  was  supported,  and  I  took  leave  to  observe,  that 
he  must  have  received  the  character  of  Paul  from  his  ene- 
mies ;  that  Paul  was  indubitably  a  learned  man,  brought  up 
at  the  feet  of  Gamaliel ;  that  he  was  celebrated  as  an 
orator ;  and  that  his  morals  were  unimpeached.  It  was 
true,  he  was  said  to  have  advocated  a  most  comfortless 
doctrine,  —  to  have  affirmed  that  a  few  were  elected  to 
19 


290  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

everlasting  life ;  while,  by  the  same  irreversible  decree, 
countless  millions  were  consigned  to  remediless  and  never- 
ending  miser3\  "  But,"  I  added,  "  sirs,  believe  it  not ;  for, 
veril}^,  the  doctrine  that  God  was  in  Christ  reconciling  the 
world  unto  himself  was  uniforml}^  proclaimed  by  our  grQ;at 
apostle.  The  doctrine  of  election  is  questionless  to  be 
found  in  the  pages  of  this  evangelical  writer ;  but  reproba- 
tion is  not  a  necessary  consequence  of  election^  nor  does  it 
appear  in  the  writings  of  the  apostle  to  the  Gentiles.  A 
governor  is  elected  by  a  commonwealth  ;  a  council,  senators, 
representatives  are  elected ;  but  are  the  people  therefore 
consigned  to  perdition  ?  "  Thus  I  went  on,  and  my  little 
audience  with  lifted  hands  exclaimed,  "  This  plan  is 
worth}'  of  a  God ;  and  we  felicitate  you,  dear  sir,  as  the 
ambassador  of  Deit}-."  The  hall  of  the  factory,  and  the 
dwelling  of  my  friend,  being  too  small  for  the  increasing 
congregation,  Mr.  Peck  proposed  I  should  publish  a  lecture 
in  the  meeting-house  of  Mr.  Croswell,*  of  which  he  was 
the  principal  support.     I  at  first  declined  this  proposal ; 

*  I  have  here  supplied  the  name  for  the  initial.  This  meeting-house,  in  the 
pulpit  of  which  Mr.  Murray  was  subsequently  stoned,  stood  in  School  Street,  on 
the  lot  next  east  of  that  on  which  the  meeting-house  of  the  "  Second  Universalist 
Society  "  now  stands.  Rev.  Andrew  Croswell  was  formerly  the  pastor  of  a  church 
In  Groton,  Conn.  He  was  invited  to  remove  to  Boston,  and  take  the  charge  of 
the  Eleventh  Congregational  Church.  They  soon  purchased  the  house  in  School 
Street,  which  had  been  formerly  occupied  by  the  French  Protestants.  Mr.  Peck 
was  one  of  the  principal  owners  of  the  house,  and  supporters  of  Mr.  Croswell; 
and  it  was  at  Ms  request  and  importunity  that  Mr.  Murray  preached  there.  Mr. 
C.'s  society  dwindled  away ;  he  became  blind,  and  died  April  12,  1785,  in  the  seven- 
ty-seventh year  of  his  age.  The  society  became  extinct,  and  the  meeting-house  was 
sold  to  the  Roman  Catholics,  who  gathered  a  congregation  about  this  time.  They 
occupied  it,  we  presume,  until  they  removed  to  their  new  church  in  Franklin  Place, 
since  which  it  has  been  demolished.  —  Snow's  Hist,  of  Boston,  1826,  pp.  201. 
232,  240. 

Mr.  Croswell  was  generally  regarded  as  a  highly  bigoted  and  censorious  divine. 
Hon.  Benjamin  Russell,  for  many  years  the  editor  of  the  "  Boston  Centinel,"  has 


LIFE    OF  EEV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  291 

but  bis  repeated  and  earnest  solicitations  induced  me  to 
preach  in  Mr.  Croswell's  pulpit.  In  the  hall  of  the  factor}' 
also,  I  again  delivered  my  message  ;  and  on  Frida}^  No- 
vember 26th,  I  preached  at  Faneuil  Hall ;  my  subject, 
John  viii.  36  :  "  If  the  Son,  therefore,  shall  make  you  free, 
ye  shall  be  free  indeed."  The  principal  gentlemen  of  the 
town  were  among  ni}'  audience,  who  heard  me  with  great 
seriousness.  After  lecture,  xmrny  took  me  by  the  hand, 
and,  urging  me  to  return  to  them  speedily,  praj^ed  in  the 
warmest  manner  for  my  success  as  a  gospel  promulgator. 
This  was  the  last  night  of  my  abode  in  Boston,  on  my  first 
visit.  I  passed  it  at  Mr.  Peck's,  accompanied  by  some 
friends,  and  we  devoted  it  to  scriptural  investigations. 
M}'  continuance  in  Boston  was  strongly  urged ;  but  I  was 
under  the  necessit}'  of  departing,  and  devotional  prayers 
for  m}^  safety,  success,  and  speed}^  return  were  reiterated, 
—  SUCH  ARE  MY  CREDENTIALS.  I  left  Bostou  ou  Saturday, 
November  27th ;  reaching  Providence  upon  the  evening  of 
that  day,  where  again  and  again  I  delivered  my  testimou}^ 
in  the  pulpit  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Snow.  Departing  thence  on 
the  Tuesday  following,  accompanied  b}^  my  dear  young 
friend,  Mr.  Binne}',  for  East  Greenwich,  I  met  some  ver}^ 

informed  me  that  a  poem  was  once  sent  him  for  publication  in  that  paper,  con- 
taining a  description  of  every  clergyman  then  preaching  in  Boston.  One  of  them 
heard  of  it,  and  sent  him  a  billet,  requesting  the  privilege  of  perusing  it ;  whereupon 
it  was  loaned  to  him.  He  read  it,  and  found  himself  alluded  to  in  favorable 
terms ;  but  as  there  was  much  severity  in  regard  to  certain  individuals,  and  as  it 
was  written  by  one  of  his  friends,  he  incurred  the  anger  of  Mr.  Russell  by  burn- 
ing it.    Croswell  was  described  in  the  following  manner :  — 

"  Sour,  croaking  Croswell,  armed  with  fire  and  fury, 
Consigns  to  hpll,  without  a  judge  or  jury, 
All  whom  his  ignorance  is  wont  t'assail. 
For  venturing  beyond  his  narrow  pale." 

T.  W. 


292  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

dear  friends,  and,  as  iron  sharpeneth  iron,  so  was  my  coun- 
tenance brightened,  and  m}^  spirit  soothed  and  cheered. 

From  this  period,  November  30th,  until  the  close  of  Jan- 
uarj',  1774,  when  I  reached  my  lodging-place  at  the  house 
of  my  patron,  I  moved  slowly  on,  preaching  glad  tidings  in 
various  places,  friends  and  enemies  still  multiplying.  At 
New  London  my  opportunities  of  preaching  were  repeated^ 
and  the  number  of  my  treasures  proportionably  augmented. 
Hertell,  Wliey,  Trueman,  —  these  were  of  the  true  circum- 
cision, who  worshipped  God  in  the  spirit,  rejoicing  in  Christ 
Jesus,  and  having  no  confidence  in  the  flesh ;  and  my 
orisons  were  dail}^  offered  up  to  the  God  of  all  consolation, 
that  the  number  of  such  genuine  believers  might  be  in- 
creased. I  delight  to  dwell  upon  the  days  I  have  passed  in 
New  London.  Deshon,  Wheat,  Saltonstall,  Packwood,  Law, 
Huntington,  Champlin,  Hubbard,  etc.,  etc.,  very  pleasant 
have  ye  been  unto  me.  May  the  blessing  of  God  descend 
upon  3^our  children's  children,  to  the  latest  generation  ! 

One  capital  difficulty,  which  has  encompassed  me  in  my 
progress  through  this  younger  world,  has  been  the  extreme 
reluctance  of  inquirers  to  receive  their  answers  in  Scripture 
language.  Standing  alone,  I  have  sought  to  wrap  myself, 
or  rather  to  intrench  myself,  in  the  sacred  testimony  of  my 
God  ;  and  for  this  I  have  been  accused  of  prevarication, 
equivocation,  and  what  not,  merely  because  I  have  not 
generall}^  chosen  to  garb  my  sentiments  in  my  own  words. 
For  example :  the  interrogator  commences  with  a  great 
many  compliments,  and  then  follows,  "  Do  you  believe  all 
men  will  finally  be  saved?"  —  '•  /  believe  it  is  good  and 
acceptable  in  the  sight  of  God  our  Saviour,  ivho  will  have  all 
men  to  be  saved,  and  to  come  unto  the  knowledge  of  the  truth." 
— ''  But  do   you  yourself   believe  that    all   mankind   will 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  293 

finally  be  saved?"  —  "  God  hath  included  all  in  unbelief 
that  he  may  have  mercy  upon  all."  —  "  But  will  all  be  finallj^ 
saved?"  —  "  God  hath  spoken  of  the  restitution  of  all  things, 
by  the  mouth  of  all  his  holy  prophets.^  since  the  world  began." 
—  "  But  still  3^ou  do  not  answer  m}^  question."  —  "  Wh}', 
sii-,  for  an3'thing  I  know,  the  authors  I  have  cited  mean 
by  their  words  precisel}'  the  same  as  I  do.  I  adopt  their 
langua^,  because  I  conceive  it  expresses  my  own  ideas 
better  than  any  set  of  phrases  I  could  press  into  my  ser- 
vice." This  mode,  however,  has  rarelj^  given  satisfaction. 
Persons  dare  not,  in  an  unqualified  manner,  deny  the  valid- 
ity of  Scripture  testimony.  The}^  can  only  assert,  it  does 
not  mean  as  it  speaks,  and  they  earnestl3"  repeat  the  ques- 
tion, "  Do  you  believe,"  etc.,  etc.  While  my  responses 
are  drawn  from  the  sacred  streams  flowing  in  the  book  of 
God,  from  Genesis  to  Revelation,  still  they  importunateh^, 
sometimes  clamoroush',  demand,  "But  do  you  take  those 
Scriptures  as  they  are  spoken?"  To  which  I  can  onl}' 
repl}^  "  I  have  no  reason  to  believe  that,  by  saying  one 
thing,  and  meaning  another,  men,  so  upright,  have  formed  a 
plan  to  deceive  me."  An  attempt  has  then  been  made  to 
prove  the  texts  in  question  did  not,  could  not,  mean  as  they 
spake.  To  which  I  have  answered,  "  Multitudes  are  on 
your  side.  Manj^  have  labored  to  prove  God  a  liar;,  but  I 
have  never  3'et  heard  an}^  argument  sufficientlj^  potent  to 
convince  me  that  he  is  so  " 

On  the  ninth  of  April  in  this  j^ear,  I  received  from  the 
church  and  congregation*  in  Portsmouth,  New  Hampshire, 

♦This  society  afterwards  settled  Rev.  Joseph  Walton,  who  was  ordained  over 
them  Sept.  22,  1789,  and  died  in  1822,  aged  eighty.  On  the  removal  of  Rev. 
Hosea  I'>alIou  to  Portsmouth,  in  180.»,  Mr.  Walton  entered  into  a  controversy  with 
him,  in  connection  with  Rev,  Joseph  Buckminster,  two  editions  of  which  have 
been  published.  —  T.  W. 


294  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN   MURRAY. 

worshipping  in  the  separate  meeting-house,  a  solemn  and 
affectionate  call,  to  take  upon  me  the  pastoral  charge  of 
that  people  ;  but  I  was  not  then  convincedl  ought  to  accept 
an  establishment  in  any  place.  I  passed  the  spring,  and  the 
early  part  of  the  summer,  of  1774,  in  Pennsylvania,  the 
Jerseys,  and  New  York,  with  persons  who  had  drank  into 
the  same  spirit  with  myself;  with  my  revered  friend  and 
father,  with  the  Mounts  and  Pangburns  of  those  happ}' 
daj's.  Blessed  be  God,  I  have  indeed  enjoyed  richl}^  the 
consolations  of  friendship  !  In  Philadelphia  I  was  present 
at  the  heart-rending  trial  of  some  malefactors,  which  re- 
sulted in  their  receiving  sentence  of  death ;  and  I  could 
not  forbear  exclaiming,  '•  O  Adam,  what  hast  thou 
DONE?"  My  bosom  swells  to  rapture  upon  the  reflection 
that  I  had  frequent  opportunities  of  visiting  those  criminals, 
and  of  preaching  to  them  peace,  through  the  fountain 
opened  in  the  side  of  the  second  Adam.  The  poor  creatures 
seemed  much  affected.  The  proclamation  of  the  tender 
mercies  of  the  Redeemer  was  more  effectual  than  all  the 
terrors  of  Mount  Sinai.  Departing  from  New  York,  about 
the  twentieth  of  Jul}^  I  passed,  by  short  stages,  through  Con- 
necticut and  Rhode  Island,  visiting  my  friends  in  various 
directions,  and  deriving  inexpressible  satisfaction  from  be- 
holding their  order,  their  zeal,  and  the  magnitude  of  their 
faith.  On  the  sixteenth  of  August,  the  governor  of  Rhode 
Island  sent  me  a  passage  of  Scripture,  soliciting  me  to 
take  it  for  my  subject.  It  may  be  found  Mark  xiv.  10. 
The  governor  attended,  and,  after  I  had  closed,  took  my 
hand  with  much  cordiality,  and  expressed  himself  well 
satisfied,  and  truly  grateful. 

September    14,    1774,    I    again    reached    Boston.     My 
fri(mds  had  long  been  expecting  me,  and  I  was  received 


I 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  295 

with  demonstrations  of  heart-felt  joy.  Through  the  great- 
est part  of  this  autumn  I  continued  preaching  in  the  hall 
of  the  factory,  in  the  mansion  of  my  venerable  friend,  and 
at  Faneuil  Hall.  Once  I  attempted  to  preach  in  Mason's 
Hall ;  but  the  throng,  and  consequent  confusion,  were  so 
great,  that  I  was  necessitated  to  desist  even  after  I  had 
worded  my  text ;  and  finally,  the  congregations  still  aug- 
menting, I  jielded  to  the  pressing  solicitations  of  the  pro- 
prietors of  Mr.  Cros well's  meeting-house,  and  repeatedly 
delivered  m}'  testimony  there.  On  the  thirty-first  of 
October,  a  gentleman  by  the  name  of  Sargent  called  upon 
me  from  Gloucester,  urging  me  to  accompan}-  him  to  his 
place  of  residence.  M3'  engagements  would  not  allow  my 
immediate  attendance,  but  I  gave  my  word  for  an  early 
compliance  with  his  wishes.  November  2d,  Wednesday 
evening,  I  named  as  the  subject  of  my  public  lecture,  Luke 
xiii.,  from  the  twenty-fourth  to  the  thirtieth.  After  I  had 
closed,  a  clerg3'man,*  of  a  respectable  appearance,  whom  I 
had  never  before  seen,  ascended  the  stairs  of  the  pulpit, 
and  addressed  the  people  to  the  following  effect :  "  My 
friends,  you  have  heard  a  great  deal  said  (for  what  purpose 
I  know  not)  which  is  calculated  to  lead  3'ou  astra}^  from 
the  true  meaning  of  the  text.  The  passage  refers  to  the 
general  judgment,  and  to  nothing  else  ;  and  all  that  has 
been  said  can  only  originate  wrong  ideas  of  the  Scriptures.; 
for  how  can  it  be  that  the  Jews  should  be  intended  by  those 
who  were  shut  out?  When  did  the  Jews  see  Abraham  and 
Isaac  and  Jacob  in  the  kingdom  of  God?  Or  how  is  it 
possible,  that,  if  they  should  thus  behold  them,  they  could 
ever  be  happy  ?     It  is  not  possible  that  any  w^ho  die  in  a 

*  This,  I  am  informed,  was  Rev.  J.  Bacon,  pastor  of  the  Old  South  Church. 
—  T.  W. 


296  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

stale  of  unbelief  should  ever  be  happy  to  all  eternity  ;  and 
therefore,  ray  brethren,  I  would  exhort  you  to  take  care 
you  are  not  led  astray  by  the  words  of  man's  wisdom,  and 
the  cunning  craftiness  of  men,  whereby  the}^  lie  in  wait  to 
deceive.  Oh !  it  is  ver}^  dangerous  to  give  heed  to  such 
things."  Thus  the  gentleman  proceeded,  earnestly  warning 
the  people,  and  then  paused.  Again  I  arose,  saying, 
"  Now  this  is  well ;  I  like  this.  How  infinitely  preferable 
to  secret  calumny  !  No  bush-fighting  here.  And,  so  much 
am  I  gratified  with  this  ingenuous  manner  of  dealing  with 
me,  that  it  is  with  extreme  reluctance  I  find  it  necessary  to 
dissent  from  him  in  opinion.  Yet  I  must  beg  leave  to 
observe,  in  the  first  place,  the  gentleman  must  assuredh' 
be  wrong,  in  supposing  the  passage  in  question  refers  to  the 
general  and  ^?iaZ  judgment.  Do  but  attend  to  the  conclud- 
ing verse,  '  There  are  last  which  shall  be  firsts  and  first 
which  shall  be  last'  Surely,  the  text  would  not  be  thus 
worded  if  the  last  judgment  were  designed.  The  parable 
of  the  ten  virgins  illustrates  this  passage."  Then  turning 
to  the  eleventh  of  Romans,  I  pointed  out  some  particulars, 
which  are  generalh^  passed  unnoticed  ;  and  when  I  read, 
"  for  God  hath  included  them  all  in  unbelief,  that  he  might 
have  mercy  upon  all,"  my  opponent,  rising,  looked  over  my 
shoulder,  evidentl}'  to  ascertain  if  I  had  given  the  genuine 
reading  of  the  text ;  upon  which  a  lawyer  in  the  assembly 
exclaimed,  ''I  advise  you,  sir,  to  retire  and  read  your 
Bible."  I  begged  we  might  not  be  interrupted  ;  and  I 
affirmed  that  my  antagonist  was  entitled  to  my  cordial 
thanks,  and  that  I  devoutl3^  wished  Iiis  example  might  be 
generally  influential.  I  then  proceeded  to  show  that  it  was 
possible  an  individual  might  pass  out  of  time  ignorant  of 
God,  and  yet  be  taught  of  God  in  that  great  dav  when  the 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  297 

books  should  be  opened.  I  read  the  last  part  of  the  twent}"- 
second  Psalm,  making  a  few  remarks  thereon  ;  and,  after 
exhorting  the  audience  to  follow  the  example  of  the  Bereans, 
I  paused  for  a  repl}'.  The  gentleman  affirmed  I  had  given 
an  erroneous  view  of  the  parable  of  the  ten  virgins  ;  that  it 
pointed  out  the  visible  church  ;  and  that  the  foolish  virgins 
were  the  l\ypocrites ;  and  he  admonished  the  people  to 
beware  of  false  teachers,  etc.,  etc.  To  which  I  replied,  by 
presuming  the  gentleman  did  not  recollect  that  t\\Q  foolish 
virgins  seemed  to  be  equally  a  part  of  the  kpigdom  of  heaven 
with  the  wise  virgins,  otherwise  he  would  not  so  liberally 
consign  them  to  the  devil.  He  would  have  us  believe  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  the  visible  church.  Such  are  the 
sentiments  of  his  Holiness  at  Rome  ;  but,  having  abjured 
one  Pope,  I  trusted  we  should  not  again  be  brought  into 
subjection  to  principles,  the  propriety'  of  which  our  hearts 
refused  to  acknowledge. 

November  3d,  I  repaired  to  Gloucester,  and  was  re- 
ceived by  a  few  ver}-  warm-hearted  Christians.  The  mansion- 
house,  the  heart  of  the  then  head  of  the  Sargent  family, 
with  his  highly  accomplished,  and  most  exemplary  ladj', 
were  open  to  receive  me.  I  had  travelled  from  Maryland 
to  New  Hampshire  without  meeting  a  single  individual 
who  appeared  to  have  the  smallest  idea  of  what  I  esteemed 
the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  ;  but,  to  mv  great  astonishment, 
there  were  a  few  persons,  dwellers  in  that  remote  place, 
upon  whom  the  light  of  the  gospel  had  more  than  dawned. 
The  writings  of  ]Mr.  Relly  were  not  onl}'  in  their  hands, 
but  in  their  hearts.  Four  years  previous  to  this  period,  an 
Englishman,  a  Mr.  Gregor}^  had  brought  with  him  those 
obnoxious  pages,  and  loaned  them  to  this  small  circle  of 
Gloucesterians,  by  whom  they  had  been  seized  with  avidity  ; 


298  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

the  Father  of  their  spirits  rendered  them  luminous  to  their 
understandings  ;  and  it  was  in  consequence  of  their  admi- 
ration of  Mr.  Relly,  that,  observing  in  the  papers  of  the 
day  an  individual  malignantly  arraigned  as  a  preacher  of 
Relh'*s  gospel,  they  delaj^ed  not  to  despatch  earnest  solici- 
tations for  my  presence  among  them.  In  Gloucester, 
therefore,  I  passed  m}"  time  most  agreeabl}^  until  Novem- 
ber 12th.  The  clergyman  of  the  principal  meeting-house 
being  confined  by  illness,  I  was  visited  by  the  deacons 
and  elders  of  his  church,  and  by  them  conducted  to  his 
house,  after  which  I  obtained  permission  to  preach  in  his 
pulpit,  which  I  several  times  did ;  my  subjects,  1 
Cor.  xi.  26;  the  good  Samaritan;  Isaiah  xxviii.  16. 
etc.  Every  day  and  every  evening  was  appropriated  to 
the  expounding  of  the  Scriptures,  in  the  spacious  and  well- 
filled  parlor  of  m}'  new  and  highh^  respectable  friend  ;  and 
I  had  reason  to  believe  that  God  most  graciously  crowned 
my  labors  in  this  place  by  giving  to  some  brighter  views, 
and  inducing  others  to  search  the  Scriptures  for  themselves. 
Every  morning  commenced,  and  every  day  closed,  with 
praj^er ;  and  with  glad  hearts  we  delighted  to  hymn  the 
praises  of  a  redeeming  God.  Taking  a  most  aflectionate 
leave  of  those  ver}'  dear  friends  on  Saturdaj^  morning,  ac- 
companied by  Mr.  Sargent,  I  returned  to  Boston.  Upon 
the  evenings  of  Sunday  and  Wednesday  I  again  occupied 
the  pulpit  of  Mr.  Croswell,  and  upon  the  evening  of 
Wednesday  the  audience  were  incommoded  by  a  profusion 
of  water  thrown  over  them,  and  an  Qg^  was  aimed  at  me  in 
the  pulpit,  which,  however,  happened  to  miss  me.  On 
Thursda}^  a  piece  of  slander  was  published  in  the  paper  of 
the  day,  over  the  signature  of  Mr.  Croswell.  He  had  be- 
fore declared  he  would  print  no  more  in  the  newspaper ; 


LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  299' 

SO  had  I ;  but,  although  he  had  forfeited  his  word,  I  did  not 
think  proper  to  follow  his  example,  and  I  therefore  ad- 
dressed the  following  letter  to  his  private  ear  :  — 

"  Sir  :  Some  time  since,  being  under  the  disagreeable  necessity  of  replying  to 
a  dull  repetition  of  your  abusive  slanders,  and  being  persuaded,  Hglit  or  wrong, 
yoii  would  have  the  last  word,  I  assured  the  public  I  would  write  no  more  in 
newspapers.  So  did  you.  But  your  brilliant  example  shall  never  influence  me  to 
undertake  the  vindication  of  my  veracity,  by  convincing  the  world  I  can  lie. 
But,  as  in  the  close  of  your  last  performance,  you  informed  me  and  the  public, 
that  if  I  thought  myself  wronged,  what  had  been  asserted  should  be  proved  to 
my  face,  before  as  large  an  auditory  as  I  pleased,  I  now,  sir,  take  leave  to  say,  I 
do  thiuk  myself  most  cruelly  wronged,  and  I  should  rejoice  in  an  opportunity 
of  vindicating  myself  at  the  bar  of  tlie  impartial  public:  yes,  I  should  rejoice  to 
see  a  very  large  audience  collected;  but,  as  I  suppose  we  shall  not  be  able  to 
procure  any  place  but  the  meeting-house  in  School  Street,  I  shall  expect,  if  you 
be  an  honest  man,  to  meet  you  there.  You  commend  a  certain  gentleman,  who 
recently  spoke  to  me  in  that  house.  So  do  I.  He  did  not,  like  Solomon's  fool, 
cast  about  firebrands,  arrows,  and  death,  and  say,  'Am  I  not  in  sport?'  he 
spake  above-board,  fair  and  openly.  I  should  be  glad  if  you  would  come  and  do 
likewise— only  I  request  you  will  let  me  know  in  writing,  by  the  bearer,  when 
you  will  do  this  piece  of  common  justice,  to  the  cruelly  and  most  unwarrantably 
treated  "John  Murr.w.  " 

This  letter  enraged  him,  and  he  sent  it  back,  declaring 
he  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  me.  But  on  the  follow- 
ing Sunday  evening,  when  I  repaired  as  usual  to  the  meet- 
ing-house to  preach,  Mr.  Croswell  was  upon  the  stairs  of 
the  pulpit,  with  a  number  of  his  violent  adherents,  for  the 
purpose  of  barring  me  out.  Making  no  resistance,  I  re- 
quested the  gentleman  might  be  heard  with  patient  atten- 
tion ;  and,  silence  being  obtained,  Mr.  Croswell  entered  the 
pulpit,  and  declaimed  for  a  long  time  with  great  bitterness  ; 
accusing  me  of  preaching  damnable  doctrines,  though  he- 
had  never  heard  me  preach,  but  so  he  had  been  informed  ; 
asserting  that  I  was  one  of  Rell3''s  followers,  and  Relly 
believed  all  mankind  would  be  saved  ;  and  Relh'  was  a 
blasphemer,  and  denied  the  atonement ;  and  I  was  a  Deist^ 


300  LIFE   OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

and  it  was  dangerous  to  allow  me  to  speak ;  for  I  said 
once,  in  his  hearing,  that  God  loved  the  devil's  children ; 
and  then,  raising  his  voice,  he  vociferated,  "  It  is  a  lie,  a 
lie,  a  lie  ;  it  is  a  damnable  lie  !  "  Thus  he  went  on,  alter- 
nately cr3'ing  out  against  me  and  against  Mr.  Relh', 
damning  m}-  preaching  and  his  writings,  and  exhorting  the 
people  to  avoid  me,  etc.,  etc.  When  lie  had  concluded,  he 
quitted  tlie  pulpit,  and  was  passing  out  of  the  house  as 
speedity  as  possible.  I  requested  him  to  stop ;  but,  ob- 
serving he  was  rapidly  departing,  I  urged  the  people  to 
give  me  an  opportunity  of  having  justice  done  me,  by  de- 
taining my  accusing  adversar}^  that  I  might  defend  myself 
in  his  presence  ;  and  Mr.  Croswell  was  accordingly  led 
into  a  pew.  I  informed  the  audience  that  I  did  indeed 
labor  under  great  difficulty.  The  person  to  whom  I  was 
about  to  repl}^  was  an  old  gentleman  and  a  clergyman, 
both  of  which  characters  were  indubitably  entitled  to  re- 
spect. Yet  truth  was,  in  m}'  opinion,  abundantl}^  superior 
to  ever}^  other  consideration  ;  it  was  beyond  all  price  ;  a 
gem  with  which  its  possessor  should  never  part.  I  should 
therefore  take  leave  to  say  Mr.  Croswell  was  ver}'  right 
and  very  wrong, — right  in  condemning  damnable  doctrines  ; 
wrong  in  charging  me  with  preaching  those  doctrines.  Mr. 
Croswell,  1  said,  reminded  me  of  Nero,  who,  to  be  re- 
venged upon  the  Christians,  set  the  city  of  Rome  on  fire, 
and  charged  the  Christians  with  that  atrocious  deed. 

Mr.  Croswell  had  dressed  me  in  a  bear's  skin,  and  then 
set  the  dogs  at  me.  "  He  affirms  that  I  preach  damnable 
doctrines.  Suffer  me  to  ask.  What  are  the  damnable  doc- 
trines? Peter  says,  'There  shall  arise  false  teachers 
among  you,  as  there  were  false  prophets  among  the  people, 
-who  shall  privily  bring  in  damnable  doctrines,  even  deny 


LIFE    OF   FEV.    JORy   MUFF  AT.  SOI 

ing  the  Lord,  who  houglit  tht-/j\.'  I  ai  i  "ral  to  this  andience. 
Did  I  ever  deny  the  Lord  who  bougL:  you?  Od  the  con- 
trary, have  I  not  borne  constant  testimoDy  to  this  pur- 
chase ?  Did  yon  ever  hear  me  say,  it  made  no  difference 
whether  a  man  lived  a  good  or  a  bad  life  ;  was  a  believer  or 
an  uribeKecer?  Surely,  it  is  highly  inconsistent  to  rank 
me  with  the  Deist,  who  utterly  disowns  the  Redeemer, 
when  I  am  anaigned  at  this  bar  for  belie\'ing  there  is  no 
God  out  of  Christ,  and  that  He  who  is  God  our  Saviour 
is  all  arid  in  all.  3Ir.  Relly*  is  three  thousand  miles  from 
this  metropolis  :  Mr.  Croswell  has  neither  seen  nor  heard 
him.  Blasphemy,  of  which  3Ir.  Croswell  accuses  him.  is  no- 
where to  be  found  in  his  writings.  These  writings,  give 
me  leave  to  say.  will  live,  and  be  held  in  admiration,  when 
ten  thousand  such  characters  as  31:".  Croswell's  and  mine 
will  be  consigned  to  oblivion."  Thus  I  went  on.  Mr.  Cros- 
well again  advanced  to  the  pulpit ;  reiterated  what  he  had 
before  asserted,  without  regarding  a  syllable  which  I  had 
uttered,  until  at  length  he  interrogated,  "  Does  God  love 
all  the  people  in  the  world  as  well  as  Peter  and  Paul?" 

—  ••  Suner  me.  sir.  first  to  ask  you  one  question,  which,  if 
you  will  answer,  then  I  will  reply  to  yours.  Did  God  love 
Peter  and  Paul  as  well  before  they  believed  as  afterwards?'* 

—  "God  loved  Peter  and  Paul  from  the  foundation  of  the 
world."  Again  and  again  I  repeated  my  question,  bat 
could  not  obtain  a  direct  answer.  The  people  from  the 
galleries  called  out.  *•  "W^hy  do  you  not  say  yes,  or  no?" — 
but  he  refused  thus  to  commit  himself,  and  of  course  I 
dropped   the  inquiry.      Again  he  returned  to  the  charge. 

*  As  this  is  the  last  notice  the  reader  ^rill  find  of  the  Eer.  James  ReDy,  it  is 
IMt>per  to  say  he  died  in  the  fidl  £uth  of  the  doctrine  he  had  preadied,  some- 
where we  beliere  about  ITSi,  Mr.  Murray  was  seasihly  affiectied  with  the  intdli- 
gence  of  his  death.  — T.  W. 


302  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

*'  Does  God  love  all  the  people  in  the  world  as  well  as 
Peter  and  Paul?  "  —  "  Yes,  sir,  I  believe  he  does,  as  well 
as  he  loved  those  apostles  before  they  believed."  —  "Do 
joii  believe  God  loves  all  the  people  in  the  world?"  — 
"  Yes,  sir,  I  do."  Then,  again,  Lie  proceeded  most  violentl}', 
and,  that  the  heres}^  might  be  confirmed,  he  once  more 
questioned,  "  Do  you  believe  that  God  loves  the  devil's 
x'hildren  as  well  as  his  own  beloved  ones  ?  "  —  "  No,  indeed  ; 
I  do  not  think  God  loves  any  of  the  devil's  children."  — 
"  There,  there,  now  he  is  hiding  again."  —  "  Suffer  me,  sir, 
to  ask.  What  is  it  constitutes  the  character  of  the  wicked 
man?"  —  "  That  is  nothing  to  the  purpose." 

"  Again  I  ask.  What  is  it  constitutes  the  character  of 
the  wicked  man?"  Here  several  individuals  tremulously 
asked,  "  Why  do  you  not  answer  the  question?  We  are  all 
-concerned  in  it ;  we  are  seeking  information."  —  "  Suppose 
I  cannot ;  let  some  one  else  answer,  and,  if  I  like  it,  I  will 
agree  to  it."  No  answer  was  given,  and  Mr.  Croswell  re- 
sumed his  declamation,  affirming  I  had  said  God  loved 
the  devil's  children.  I  denied  the  charge,  and  was  again 
accused  of  hiding^  when  1  besought  the  attention  of  the 
people,  while  I  explained  myself.  "  What  are  we  to  under- 
stand by  a  father  and  a  child,  but  the  begetter  and  begot- 
ten? Can  you,  Mr.  Croswell,  or  can  any  one  present,  pre- 
sume to  say,  that  the  bodies,  or  the  souls,  of  mankind  were 
begotten  by  the  devil?  Is  not  God  the  Father  of  the 
spirits  of  all  flesh?  Is  not  God  the  Maker  of  our  frames? 
and  doth  not  the  apostle  say,  we  are  all  his  offspring  ?  If 
it  be  confessed  we  all  died  in  Adam,  we  were  of  course  in 
Adam  ;  and  if  we  were  in  Adam,  we  were  what  Adam  was. 
But  the  Evangelist  Luke  affirms  that  Adam  was  the  son  of 
Ood.     We  will  next  inquire.  Who  are  the  children  of  the 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  303 

devil,  and  who  are  the  children  of  God?  I  humbl}-  con- 
ceive, Christ  Jesus  himself  has  put  the  matter  be^'ond  dis- 
pute in  the  ever-memorable  parable  of  the  tares  of  the 
field,  and  our  obligation  to  the  Redeemer  for  explaining  it 
so  clcarl}^  to  his  disciples  is  indeed  immeasurable."  I  then 
repeated  the  parable,  and  the  explanation  ;  and  proved 
from  thence,  that  the  abominations  of  the  earth  were  chil- 
dren of  the  devil,  because  produced  by  him  ;  that  the  iniqui- 
ties of  the  people  were  the  tares  sowed  by  the  adversar}^ ; 
that  our  nature  was  the  good  seed  which  Jesus  sowed.  A 
holy  God  could  not  love  sin,  and,  of  course,  could  love  no 
child  of  the  devil ;  but  men  being  his  offspring,  he  once 
loved  them  as  his  own,  and,  having  loved  his  own,  beloved 
them  unto  the  end  ;  that  he  had  proved  this  to  all  men,  in 
the  gift  of  his  Son ;  God  so  loved  the  worlds  that  he  gave 
them  his  Son.  Mr.  Croswell  interrupted:  "Nine-tenths 
of  all  you  have  said  is  nothing  at  all  to  the  purpose  ;  "  and 
again,  in  terms  the  most  violent,  he  renewed  his  accusation, 
that  I  was  all  the  time  hiding.  A  voice  from  the  gallery 
exclaimed,  "  If  he  be  hiding^  why  do  you  not  hunt  him  out 
of  the  bush?" 

Mr.  Croswell  at  length  tauntingly  said,  "  Come,  come, 
leave  off  hiding^  and  tell  the  people,  in  plain  English,  that 
God  loves  them  all."  To  which  I  answered,  "  I  will,  sir, 
in  as  plain  English  as  I  can  command  ;"  and  then,  address- 
ing the  congregation,  I  thus  delivered  the  genuine  senti- 
ments of  my  soul.  "  I  am  commissioned  to  say  to  every  in- 
dividual before  me,  that  God  loves  you,  and  that  you  are 
not  to  accept  this  declaration  upon  my  bare  word  ;  you 
have  the  word  of  a  God,  who  cannot  lie;  who  proclaims 
himself  loving  unto  every  man ;  who  has  given  3^ou 
proof  positive   of  his   love.     His   love   has   been  greatly 


304  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

manifested  in  yonr  birtii ;  in  rearing  you  from  infancy ; 
in  guarding  you  through  the  devious  paths  of  child- 
hood and  youth,  and  preserving  you  from  ten  thousand 
dangers  to  which  3'ou  have  been  exposed.  His  gracious 
providence,  in  so  plentifully  providing  for  you,  is  a  proof 
of  his  love.  Your  civil  and  religious  liberties  are  blessed 
proofs  of  the  love  of  your  God.  These  particulars  an- 
nounce the  love  of  Deity  to  every  individual,  as  a  Creator 
and  Preserver.  Yet  these  manifestations  may  be  con- 
sidered as  merely  temporal ;  but,  blessed  be  the  holy  name 
of  Jehovah  !  I  am  authorized  to  add,  and  in  plain  English 
too,  that  God  loves  the  soul,  which  emanates  from  himself, 
and  that  he  has  proved  this  love  by  the  gift  of  his  Son. 
God  so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave  them  his  Son.  To  us 
a  child  is  born,  to  us  a  son  is  given.  God  has  evinced  his 
love,  by  giving  us,  in  this  Son,  reconciliation,  regeneration, 
a  new  head,  a  new  heart,  a  right  spirit.  Here  3'our  Crea- 
tor so  loved  you,  as  to  give  3'ou  wisdom,  righteousness,  sanc- 
tijication,  and  redemption.  In  Christ  Jesus,  God  has  so 
loved  you,  as  to  bless  you  with  all  spiritual  blessings. 
Every  individual  should  believe  this,  since  it  is  nothing 
more  than  an  accomplishment  of  the  promise,  of  the  oath 
of  Jehovah,  which  he  sware  unto  Abraham,  saying,  '•And 
in  thy  Seed  shall  all  the  nations,  all  the  families  of  the  earth 
be  blessed.*  Such  are  the  glad  tidings,  which  the  God  who 
loved  3^ou  before  the  foundation  of  the  world  hath  com- 
manded U3  to  proclaim  to  eveiy  one  of  you  ;  such  a:e  the 
glad  tidings  which  you  ought  to  believe.  If  your  heart 
tell  you  it  is  not  so,  believe  it  not,  it  is  an  unbelieving 
heart ;  he  that  trusteth  such  a  heart  is  a  fool.  If  the  devil 
tell  3'ou  it  is  not  so,  believe  him  not,  he  was  a  liar  from 
the  beginning.     If  your  ministers  tell  3'ou  you  ought  not 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  305 

to  believe  this  good  report,  trust  them  not ;  they  take  part 
with  the  devil,  and  your  unbelieving  hearts.  The  devil 
would  persuade  3'OU  not  to  believe  the  glorious  truths,  be- 
cause, if  you  were  delivered  from  his  usurpation,  you  would 
henceforward  serve  your  Creator  without  fear.  The  arch- 
fiend is  solicitous  to  retain  you  in  bondage.  His  utmost 
ellbrts  are  in  requisition  to  prevent  you  from  believing 
that  God  has  so  loved  you  as  to  purchase  you  with  the 
pric(!  of  blood,  of  the  precious  blood  of  the  Lamb  of  God. 
He  would  prevent  you  from  believing  that  you  are  bought 
with  such  a  price,  lest,  thus  believing,  you  should  render 
yourselves  living  sacrifices,  hol}^,  and  acceptable  to  God. 
But,  '  let  God  be  true,  and  every  man  a  liar.'  '  Ye  are  not 
your  own,  3'e  are  bought  with  a  price,'  and  '  the  love  of 
Christ  constraineth  us,  because  we  thus  judge,  If  one  died 
for  all,  then  were  all  dead;  and  that  he  died  for  all,  that 
they  who  live  should  not  henceforth  live  unto  themselves, 
hut  unto  him,  who  died  for  them,  and  rose  again'  " 

All  the  time  I  was  speaking,  Mr.  Croswell  was  kicking 
my  legs,  or  pulling  the  skirts  of  my  garment,  ever  and  anon 
vociferating,  "  Have  done,  have  done ;  3^ou  have  said 
enough ;  quite  enough,"  etc.  etc.  Sometimes  he  stood  up 
close  to  my  side,  shouldering  me  as  hard  as  he  was  able. 
The  congregation  noticed  his  behavior,  and  it  did  not 
give  them  pleasure.  For  myself,  I  had  much  cause  of  grati- 
tude to  my  divine  Master :  first,  that  he  was  pleased  to 
give  me  words  ;  and,  secondly,  that  he  did  not  suffer  me  to 
lose  m^'  self-command.  No,  not  for  an  instant.  Blessed 
be  the  name  of  the  Lord  ! 

My  next  evening  lecture  was  uninterrupted  ;  but,  on  the 
succeeding  Sunday  evening,  the  throng  was  so  prodigious 
that  it  was  with  much  difficulty  I  reached  the  pulpit ;  and 
20 


306  LIFE    OF  REV.  JOHN  MURRAY. 

when  I  entered,  I  was  nearly  suffocated  by  the  strong  efflu- 
via, arising  from  the  asafoetida  with  which  the  tools  of  the 
adversary  had  wet  the  pulpit  and  the  pulpit  cloth,  plenti- 
fully sprinkling  the  whole  house  with  the  same  noxious 
drug.  For  some  moments  I  was  so  much  overpowered,  as 
to  induce  an  apprehension  that  it  would  be  impossible  I 
should  proceed ;  but  the  God  of  my  life  was  abundantly 
sufficient  for  me.  The  demons  of  confusion  were,  however, 
not  quite  satisfied ;  many  stones  were  violently  thrown 
into  the  windows  ;  yet  no  one  received  any  other  injury 
than  the  alarm  which  was  created.  At  length,  a  large 
rugged  stone,  weighing  about  a  pound  and  a  half,  was  for- 
cibly thrown  in  at  the  window  behind  my  back ;  it  missed 
me.  Had  it  sped,  as  it  was  aimed,  it  muse  have  killed  me. 
Lifting  it  up,  and  waving  it  in  the  view  of  the  people,  I  ob- 
served, "  This  argument  is  solid^  and  weighty^  but  it  is 
neither  rational,  nor  convincing.''  Exclamations  from  vari- 
ous parts  of  the  house  were  echoed  and  re-echoed  :  *'  Pray, 
sir,  leave  the  pulpit,  your  life  is  at  hazard."  —  "  Be  it  so,"  I 
returned;  "the  debt  of  nature  must  be  paid,  and  I  am  as 
ready,  and  as  willing,  to  discharge  it  now,  as  I  shall  be  fifty 
years  hence.  Yet,  for  your  consolation,  suffer  me  to  say,  I 
am  immortal  while  He  who  called  me  into  existence  has 
any  business  for  me  to  perform  ;  and  when  He  has  executed 
those  purposes  for  which  He  designed  me,  He  will  graciously 
sign  my  passport  to  realms  of  blessedness.  With  your 
good  leave,  then,  I  pursue  my  subject,  and  while  I  have  a 
Thus  saith  the  Lord  for  every  point  of  doctrine  which  I 
advance,  not  all  the  stones  in  Boston,  except  they  stop  my 
breath,  shall  shut  my  mouth,  or  arrest  my  testimony."  The 
congregation  was,  as  I  have  said,  astonishingly  large  ;  but 
order  and  silence  were  gradually  restored,  and  I  had  un- 


I 


LIFE    OF  REV.   JOHN  MURRAY.  307 

common  freedom  in  the  illustration  and  defence  of  those 
sacred  truths  which  will  be  ultimately  triumphant.  Two 
or  three  succeeding  lecture  evenings  were  unmolested,  when 
the  business  of  stoning  me  in  the  pulpit  was  again  re- 
sumed. My  friends  were  in  terror,  and,  after  I  had  closed, 
forming  a  strong  phalanx  around  me,  they  attended  me 
home.  Man}^  religious  people  were  violent  in  their  opposi- 
tion ;  they  insisted  that  I  merited  the  severest  punishment ; 
that  the  old  discipline  for  heretics  ought  to  be  put  in  force  ; 
and  I  was  thus  furnished  with  abundant  reason  to  bless 
God  for  the  religious  liberty  of  the  country  of  my  adoption, 
else  racks  and  tortures  would  have  been  put  in  operation 
against  me,  nor  would  these  holy  men,  moved  by  the 
Spirit,  have  stopped  short  of  my  destruction.  Yet  was  the 
charge  of  heresy  never  proved  against  me.  I  was  never 
silenced  either  by  reason  or  Scripture.  I  had  called  upon 
men  everywhere,  clergymen,  or  laymen,  to  step  forward, 
and  convict  me  of  error;  promising,  immediately  upon  con- 
viction, to  relinquish  the  obnoxious  tenet,  whatever  it  might 
chance  to  be,  and  to  adopt  that  better  wa}^,  which  would, 
in  such  an  event,  become  luminous  before  me.  Truth  and 
gratitude  originate  the  confession,  that,  in  all  circumstan- 
ces^ I  have  hitherto  had  reason  to  bless  the  God  of  my  life, 
who  hath  promised  he  will  be  with  me  to  the  end  of  the 
world,  and  that  all  things  shall  work  together  for  good. 
Amen,  and  amen. 


I 


^ 


LIFE 


OF 


REV.   JOHN    MURRAY. 

[continued^] 


i 


CHAPTER   VII. 

SUMMARY      RECORD      OF     EVENTS,      FROM      JANUARY,      1775,     TO 
OCTOBER,     1809. 

Amid  the  haunts  of  memory  let  me  stray, 
As  duty,  love,  and  friendship,  point  the  way; 
"With  hand  of  diligence,  and  humid  eye, 
The  faithful  record  tearfully  supply. 

Would  the  beloved  preacher  had  continued  his  narra- 
tive !  The  editor,  fondly  calculating  upon  assistance  which 
she  believed  herself  authorized  to  expect,  pledged  herself 
to  continue  the  sketch,  even  to  the  closing  scene.  But, 
alas  !  disappointed  in  her  cherished  hopes  she  stands  alone. 
Her  health  is  broken,  her  spirits  are  depressed,  and  she  is 
advanced  in  life  ;  j^ea,  doubtless,  she  is  inadequate  to  the 
performance  of  her  promise.  But  she  remembers  that  this 
volume  is  addressed  onl\^  to  the  friends  of  the  dear  departed, 
and  she  mournfalh^  proceeds  to  its  completion. 

Upon  December  14,  1774,  Mr.  Murra}^  again  visited 
Gloucester.  The  numerous  family  of  the  Sargents  then 
seated  in  that  place  embraced,  in  almost  all  its  branches, 
the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  and  their  attachment  to  him, 
whom  they  believed  an  ambassador  of  the  Redeemer,  was 
proportioned  to  their  zeal.  Man}^  respectable  names  were 
added,  and  a  little  congregation  was  collected,  who  seemed 
to  have  among  them  but  one  heart  and  one  soul.  Like  the 
primitive  Christians,  they  assembled  daily,  and  they  con- 
tinued fiom  house  to  house  worshipping  the  only  true  God 

311 


312  LIFE   OF  REV,    JOHN  MURRAY. 

their  Saviour.  On  recurrence  to  the  journal  of  the  preacher 
we  find  a  memorandum,  written  upon  his  second  visit  to 
Gloucester,  which  is  thus  worded  :  "  Here  my  God  grants 
me  rest  from  my  toils  ;  here  I  have  a  taste  of  heaven.  The 
new  song  is  sung  here,  and  worthy  is  the  Lamb  constantly 
dwells  upon  their  tongues."  Mr.  Chandler's  meeting-house 
was  not  closed  against  the  promulgator  of  glad  tidings, 
until  some  time  in  January,  1775,  upon  the  twentieth  of 
which  month  he  made  a  second  journey  to  Newburyport 
and  Portsmouth.  Those  who  adhered  to  him  in  those 
towns,  having  ascertained  that  he  absolutely  believed  the 
final  restitution  of  all  things,  united  with  the  many  in  the 
most  unqualified  censure.  But  the  friends  he  had  lost,  par- 
ticularly in  Portsmouth,  were  replaced  by  many  others, 
among  whom  we  find  the  names  of  Judge  and  Sheriff  Par- 
ker, Atkinson,  Wentworth,  Austin,  Warner,  Sheafe,  Lang- 
don,  Sewall,  Brackett,  Whipple,  Thompson,  Turner,  Gard- 
ner, Masse}^,  Jackson,  etc.,  etc.  The  heaven-instructed 
preacher  continued  many  j^'ears  an  occasional  visitor  in 
Portsmouth,  where  his  labors  were  greatl}'  blessed  ;  and 
when  other  pulpits  were  closed  against  him  in  that  metrop- 
olis, the  doors  of  the  Episcopal  Church  were  open  for  his 
reception.  But  after  he  had  repeatedly  lectured  in  that 
church,  a  few  persons  appeared  in  opposition,  and  we  have 
this  moment,  under  our  eye,  an  original  writing,  addressed 
to  the  promulgator  upon  this  occasion.  We  transcribe  a 
verbatim  copy  :  "  Whereas  it  is  represented  that  some  ob- 
jections have  been  made  by  one  or  more  persons,  belonging 
to  the  Church  called  Queen's  Chapel,  against  the  doors 
thereof  being  opened  for  the  admission  of  Mr.  John  Murray 
to  preach  the  gospel ;  Wherefore,  we  the  subscribers,  pro- 
prietors, and  parishioners   of  the  church  aforesaid,  having 


i 


LIFE    OF  REV,    JOHX  MURRAY.  313 

taken  the  same  into  consideration  —  Do  (in  order  to  re- 
move an}'  difficulties  that  might  arise  in  that  gentleman's 
breast  in  consequence  of  such  objections)  hereby  fully  de- 
clare our  free  will  and  consent,  that  the  said  Church  be 
open  at  all  times,  whenever  it  ma}-  be  convenient  for  him 
to  perform  divine  service  in  town,  more  especiall}'  during 
his  present  staj' ;  and,  instead  of  deeming  it  an  indulgence 
granted  him,  we  shall,  on  the  contrar}',  acknowledge  it  a 
favor  conferred  on  us,  in  his  acceptance  of  this  invitation. 
Portsmouth,  May  24,  1781."  Signed  by  twenty-four  of 
the  leading  members  of  the  church  in  Portsmouth.  Our 
preacher  was  also  made  the  instrument  of  irradiating  the 
mind  of  an  exemplar}-  philanthropist,  Mr.  Xoah  Parker, 
now  in  regions  of  blessedness,  who  was  so  deeph*  penetrated, 
as  to  present  himself  a  servant  of  the  living  God,  a  volun- 
tary preacher  of  the  gospel.  A  convenient  house  was 
raised  for  his  use,  b}''  the  brethren  in  Portsmouth,  and  he 
continued,  until  his  departure  out  of  time,  a  zealous  and 
able  minister  of  the  reconciliation. 

Attached  to  the  Gloucesterians,  Mr.  Murray  once  more 
believed  he  had  found  a  permanent  residence  ;  30!,  although 
lie  consented  to  consider  that  place  as  his  home,  he  did 
not  relinquish  the  persuasion  that  his  commission  obliged 
him  to  go  forth  a  preacher  of  the  gospel,  wherever  and 
whenever  the  providence  of  God  might  seem  to  direct  him. 
The  inveteracy  of  his  enemies  in  the  town  of  Gloucester 
was  in  full  proportion  to  the  attachment  of  his  friends,  and 
every  means  of  annoyance  was  in  requisition.  The  spirit 
of  liberty  mounted  ver}*  high  in  Gloucester,  and  for  the 
purpose  of  influencing  the  ignorant,  the  teacher  was  pro- 
-claimed  a  papist,  sent  out  b}-  Lord  North  to  aid  the  pur- 
pose of  an  obnoxious  ministry-.    Anathemas,  and  sometimes 


314 


LIFE   OF  EEV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 


stones,  followed  his  steps  as  he  passed  the  streets.  A 
town-meeting  was  called,  the  aim  of  which  (lest  the  friends 
of  the  promulgator  should  take  the  alarm)  was  most  ille- 
gally shrouded  in  silence,  and  a  vote  was  thus  surrepti- 
tiously obtained  that  he  should  forthwith  depart  from  the 
borders  of  Gloucester.  Of  this  vote  he  was  advertised  by 
an  oflBcer  —  let  us  not  say  of  justice.  Still,  however,  he 
continued  witnessing  both  to  small  and  great,  what  Moses 
and  the  prophets  had  testified  concerning  Jesus  of  Naz- 
areth, that  he  died  for  our  sins,  and  rose  again  for  our 
justification.  The  most  unwarrantable  means  were  em- 
ployed ;  old  slanders  were  resuscitated,  and  new  accusa- 
tions brought  forward  ;  tales,  which  had  been  repeatedly 
confuted,  were  new  garbed  and  sent  abroad,  swelling  the 
bosom  of  integrity  with  unutterable  anguish.  Among 
countless  other  calumnies  which  were  afloat,  a  story  was 
embellished  and  published,  originally  propagated  by  one 
Maxwell,  wherein  the  preacher,  the  lover  of  the  Redeemer, 
is  represented  as  treating  the  Eucharist  in  a  ludicrous 
manner!  although  the  gentleman  —  Mr.,  afterwards  Gen- 
eral, Greene  —  at  whose  house,  and  in  whose  presence,  the 
irreverent  profanation  was  said  to  have  taken  place,  had 
written  to  Doctor  S ,  and  others,  completely  exoner- 
ating the  accused.  Mr.  Murray's  sentiments  upon  the 
sacred  and  consolatory  ordinance  of  the  Lord's  Supper 
are  explained  and  expatiated  upon  in  his  "  Letters  and 
Sketches  of  Sermons,"  to  which  the  interested  reader  is 
referred.  It  cannot  be  denied,  that  characters  generally 
respectable  combined  to  stimulate  the  mob  to  the  most  des- 
perate measures  ;  but  every  unwarrantable  project  was  frus- 
trated. The  doors  of  the  meeting-house  being  now  closed^ 
the   parlors  of  respectable  friends   became  the  places  of 


LIFE    OF  REV,    JOHN  MURRAY.  315- 

assembling,  until  at  length  a  spacious  room  was  consecrated* 
for  that  purpose.  Letters  of  excommunication  were  now 
addressed,  b}"  the  established  minister,  to  seventeen  of  the 
most  respectable  church-members,  and  this,  for  their  at- 
tachment to  the  gospel  of  God  our  Saviour,  while  others, 
availing  themselves  of  a  provincial  law,  endeavored  to 
expel  the  ambassador  of  their  God  as  a  vagrant ;  to  meet 
and  obviate  which  difficult}',  the  kind  friend  under  whose 
especial  patronage  he  then  was,  presented  him  with  a  deed 
of  gift,  which  constituted  him  a  freeholder  in  Gloucester. 
The  months  of  March  and  April,  in  this  year,  were  by  the 
preacher  devoted  to  visiting  his  friends  in  Boston,  and 
various  parts  of  Rhode  Island,  and  toward  the  close  of 
April  he  returned  to  his  highly  favored  home,  rejoicing 
that  the  zeal  and  attachment  of  the  Gloiicesterians  were 
nothing  diminished,  and  their  meetings  for  scriptural  in- 
vestigations were  joyfully  resumed.  In  the  month' of  May, 
1775,  the  leading  officers  of  the  Rhode  Island  Brigade, 
assembled  in  the  neighborhood  of  Boston,  despatched  a 
respectable  messenger,  with  a  letter  soliciting  the  attend- 
ance of  the  promulgator,  as  chaplain  *  to  their  detachment 
of  the  Revolutionary  Army. 

A  persuasion  that  he  could  be  of  more  use  in  the  army 
than  elsewhere  would  not  allow  the  preacher  to  balance,. 


*  It  is  not  difficult  to  see  the  cause  of  Mr.  Murray's  appointment  to  this  office. 
In  his  journeys  through  Rhode  Island  he  had  become  intimately  acquainted  with 
several  of  the  officers,  particularly  Mr.,  afterwards  General,  Greene,  who  through 
the  whole  war  held  so  high  a  rank  in  the  affection  and  confidence  of  the  com- 
mander-in-chief, and  who  was  regarded  as  second  only  to  him  in  patriotism, 
etability,  prudence,  and  military  skill.  His  previous  acquaintance  with  the  first 
officers  of  the  Khode  Island  Brigade  was  the  unquestionable  cause  of  his  ap- 
pointment. Evans,  in  his  "  Sketch  of  the  Christian  Sects,"  and  Southey,  in  his 
*'  Life  of  Wesley,"  have  both  erred,  in  stating  that  Mr.  Murray  was  chaplain  to- 
Gen.  Washington.    He  was  chaplain  only  to  the  Rhode  Island  Brigade.  —  T.  W. 


316  LIFE    OF  REV,    JOHN  MURRAY. 

and,  accordingly  resigning  the  calm  recess  of  friendship,  he 
presented  himself  in  the  American  camp,  and,  "  armed  with 
the  sword  of  Jesse's  j^outhful  son,"  he  was  indeed  most 
ardently  engaged.  The  scene,  however,  was  not  calculated 
to  give  pleasure  to  a  philanthropist.  In  a  memorandum 
of  this  date,  he  thus  expresses  himself:  "  My  troubles  have 
recommenced.  I  am  now  indeed  in  the  world,  and  shall 
doubtless  encounter  tribulation.  I  am  associated  with  an 
ungovernable  set  of  people.  It  is  true,  the  officers  are 
gentlemen,  and  call  into  action  every  effort  to  strengthen 
my  hands  ;  but  the  soldier  —  alas  !  the  fact  is,  I  am  not  in 
my  own  compan}^" 

Upon  the  third  of  July  the  chaplain  accompanied  a 
detachment  of  the  brigade,  to  compliment  General  Wash- 
ington upon  his  arrival  to  take  the  supreme  command  of 
the  army  at  Cambridge  ;  and  he  was  received  by  the  immor- 
tal chief  with  that  urbanity  which  he  so  well  knew  how  to 
jpractise.  The  subject  of  the  first  sermon,  preached  on 
Sabbath  morning  at  the  camp,  Jamaica  Plains,  was  Psalm 
sliv.  1,  2,  3,  and  upon  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  the 
last  verse  of  the  same  psalm.  The  preacher  was  engaged 
occasionally  at  Jamaica  Plains,  and  on  Prospect  Hill. 
Every  morning  at  seven  o'clock  he  met  the  several  regi- 
ments upon  the  parade.  Gradually  the  habits  of  swearing 
and  the  rough  manners  of  the  soldiery  yielded  to  the 
<;hristianized  eloquence  of  their  chaplain,  and  his  success 
in  the  army  was  indeed  most  wonderful.  His  benevolence 
and  benignity  while  there  is  storied  by  many  a  tongue. 
We  indulge  ourselves  b}'  selecting  an  instance  which  did 
not  reach  our  ears  until  since  his  decease.  A  detachment 
•of  the  army  was  ordered  to  march  ;  a  river  was  to  be  forded  ; 
a  poor  soldier,  in  years,  and  struggling  with  sickness,  was 


JJFE    OF  REV.    JOnX   MURRAY.  317 

tottering  under  his  burden.  The  preacher  instantly  ac- 
coutred himself  with  the  knapsack,  arms,  and  cartouch- 
box,  and,  thus  arrayed,  proceeded  on,  while  the  sufferer, 
disencumbered,  passed  lightly  over.  The  writer  of  this 
sketch  could  furnish  a  series  of  similar  anecdotes  ;  often, 
when  his  finances  have  been  at  the  lowest  ebb,  and  the 
prodigious  expense  of  living  has  produced  distressing  em- 
barrassments, she  has  seen  him  extend  to  the  necessitous 
an  extricating  hand ;  and  he  not  only  indulged  and 
cherished,  but  invariably  stimulated^  every  charitable  pur- 
pose of  her  soul. 

General  Washington  honored  the  preacher  with  marked 
and  uniform  attention.  The  chaplains  of  the  army  united 
in  petitioning  the  chief  for  the  removal  of  the  promulgator 
of  glad  tidings  ;  the  answer  was  handed  them  in  the  general 
orders  of  the  ensuing  day,  which  appointed  Mr.  John  Mur- 
ray chaplain  of  the  three  Rhode  Island  regiments,  with  a 
command,  from  His  Excellency  George  Washing'pon,  that 
he  should  be  respected  accordingly^  Mr.  Murray's  com- 
mission w^as  made  out  and  delivered  to  him  ;  when,  enclos- 
ing it  in  a  respectfully  polite  letter  of  thanks,  he  returned 
it  to  the  noble-minded  chief,  earnestly  requesting  permis- 
sion to  continue  in  the  army  as  a  volunteer.  General 
Washington,  after  perusing,  folded  the  paper,  and  observed, 
"  Mr.  Murray  is  a  j^oung  man  now  ;  he  will  live  to  be  old, 
and  repentance  will  be  the  companion  of  his  age."  The 
preacher  lived  to  see  this  prediction  fulfilled.  Had  he  em- 
braced the  rich  opportunity  then  presented,  he  might  have 
continued  in  the  family  of  General  Greene,  whose  friend- 
ship was  unbroken,  and  where  his  abode  was  hailed  as  a 
distinguishing  favor,  his  daily  ratio  would  have  augmented 
for  his  emolument,  his  salary  would  have  accumulated,  he 


318  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

<vonld  have  retired  upon  half  pay  or  commutation,  and,  dur- 
ing the  3^ears  of  languor  and  decrepitude,  he  might  have 
commanded  his  own  carriage  and  servants  ;  but  the  reader 
must  have  seen  that  the  preacher  was  accustomed  to  with- 
draw from  the  approaches  of  affluence. 

Mr.  Murray  continued  in  the  army  so  long  as  his  health 
would  permit ;  but  being  violently  seized  b}^  an  indisposi- 
tion, which  terminated  in  a  bilious  fever  that  precipitated 
him  to  the  gates  of  the  grave,  he  was,  by  the  physician 
of  the  brigade,  conducted  to  Gloucester  ;  and  no  sooner 
was  his  health  re-established,  than  his  strongest  feelings 
were  powerfully  excited  by  the  sufferings  of  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  want  in  that  town.  War  of  any  description 
is  particularly  oppressive  to  the  inhabitants  seated  upon 
the  margin  of  the  ocean.  Their  subsistence  is  principally 
derived  from  the  deep.  The  rich  sources  of  commerce, 
thrown  open  by  the  genial  hand  of  peace,  became  to  the 
hardy  and  enterprising  Gloucesterian,  legitimate  objects 
of  pursuit ;  and  his  uniform  and  industrious  efforts  are 
crowned  by  competency.  But  whatever  obstructs  his  ad- 
venturous plans  inevitably  involves  him  in  distress;  and 
the  period  to  which  we  advert  was  perhaps  the  most 
gloomy  of  any  during  the  Revolutionary  War.  It  had  con- 
tinued long  enough  to  try  witliout  familiarizing  or  indurating 
the  feelings,  and  hope  had  almost  become  the  victim  of 
despair.  The  humane  preacher  surveyed  those  multiplied 
children  of  penur}^,  and  he  surveyed  them  with  a  philan- 
thropic eye  ;  nor  was  this  all :  commencing  a  journey  in 
the  depth  of  a  severe  winter,  he  addressed  the  general 
officers  in  the  American  army,  beginning  with  their  revered 
cliief,  and  extending  his  application  to  many  other  gentle- 
anan  whose   confidence   and  whose  friendship  he  enjoyed. 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  319 

He  addressed  to  those  distinguished  individuals  the  voice 
of  supplication,  and  so  successful  was  his  embassy,  that  he 
returned  to  Gloucester  with  a  large  sum  of  money,  which  he 
converted  into  rice,  meal,  and  molasses,  rendering  a  scrupu- 
l(>us  account  to  the  selectmen,  and  praying  them  to  recom- 
mend such  persons  as  were  proper  objects  of  this  providen- 
tial l)ount3\  The  whole  was  punctually  distributed,  aud 
many  sufferers  most  essentially  relieved.  Yet,,  on  the 
twentj^-seventh  day  of  February,  in  the  succeeding  year, 
1777,  we  find  this  same  feeling  solicitor  summoned  from 
t'le  bouse  of  a  friend,  Mr.  Winthrop  Sargent,  where  he  was 
suffering  from  indisposition,  and  arraigned  at  the  bar  of 
the  then  committee  of  safety  for  the  town  of  Gloucester. 
Some  gentleman  counselled  him  to  disregard  the  summons, 
especially  as  the  whole  committee  were  not  assembled,  and 
those  who  were  collected  were  decidedly  his  inveterate 
enemies  ;  but  he  answered,  that,  possessing  a  conscious- 
ness of  innocence,  he  could  not  fear  the  face  of  man. 

The  following  account  of  the  extraordinary  proceedings 
which  ensued  is  from  the  minutes  of  a  gentleman  who  was 
an  ear-witness  of  the  scene.  The  chairman  of  the  committee 
opened  the  business.  "We  have  sent  for  you,  to  know 
who  3'ou  are,  and  from  whence  you  came?" — "Your 
question  is  rather  difficult,  sir ;  I  hardly  know  how  to  an- 
swer you.  Do  you  mean  where  did  I  come  from  last?  "  — 
"I  say  where  did  you  come  from?"  —  "I  have  been  in 
various  places  in  this  country,  sir." —  "I  say  where  did  you 
come  from  when  you  came  into  this  country?"  —  "From 
England."  —  "  From  what  part  of  England  ?" —  "  London." 
—  "  What  business  had  you  to  come  to  this  country?  "  — 
"  Business,  sir  !  I  felt  disposed  to  come,  and  came  —  "  — 
"  What  business  have  you  in  this  town  ?  "  —  "  The  same  aa 


320  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

I  Lave  in  every  town  where  I  happen  to  sojourn."  Here 
one  of  the  committee  arose,  and  requesting  leave  to  speak, 
which  was  granted,  said,  "  I  conceive  we  have  sent  for  this 
man  to  know  fiom  whence  he  came,  who  he  is,  and  what 
business  he  has  here.  This  is  a  time  of  difficult}' ;  we  are 
at  variance  with  England  ;  he  calls  himself  an  Englishman  ; 
we  do  not  know  what  he  is.  He  associates  with  a  great 
many  whom  we  look  upon  as  enemies  to  this  country,  and 
they  go  to  hear  him  converse,  —  I  think,  —  I  cannot  call 
it  preaching."  Here  Mr.  Murra}^  would  have  spoken,  but 
he  was  imperiously,  not  to  say  impudently,  commanded  to 
be  silent,  and  his  accuser  proceeded,  until  at  length  the 
chairman  again  resumed,  "  Where  did  you  come  from?  We 
want  to  know  where  you  were  born,  and  brought  up.'* 
Mr.  Murray  answered,  "  Gentlemen,  it  is  not  my  wish  to 
give  you  unnecessary  trouble.  I  was  born  in  England  ; 
shortly  after  I  had  attained  my  eleventh  year,  I  accompanied 
my  father  to  Ireland,  where  I  continued  many  years  under 
his  care.  When  I  was  between  ten  and  twenty  I  returned 
to  England,  where  I  abode,  living  generally  in  London, 
until  I  quitted  it  for  this  country.  Since  I  came  into  this 
country,  my  residence  has  been  in  Maryland,  Pennsjdvania, 
the  Jerseys,  New  York,  Connecticut,  Rhode  Island,  Massa- 
chusetts, and  New  Hampshire."  —  "What  did  you  come 
into  this  country  for?  "  —  "  In  pursuit  of  retirement ;  but 
^oncurrent  circumstances  rendered  me  a  preacher."  — 
•'Have  you  any  credentials?"  —"  Yes,  sir." — "Show 
them."  —  "I  have  none  present ;  there  are  raan3Mn  this 
town  who  have  heard  me,  and  received  my  testimony ;  they 
are  my  credentials."  —  "Ay,  that  is  nothing;  3'ou  see  he 
has  no  authority'.  How  could  you  think  of  preaching  with- 
out authority?"  —  "  When  I  came  into  this  country,  there 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  321 

was  no  war.  I  believed  it  to  be  a  land  of  civil  and  religious 
liberty.  Every  charter  and  every  law  made  among  3'our- 
selves  breathed  a  spirit  of  toleration.  I  felt  assured  I  sliould 
be  allowed  liberty  of  conscience.  My  intentions  were  up- 
right ;  a  conviction  that  God  had  ordained  me  to  proclaim 
the  gospel  has  been  powerfully  impressed  upon  my  mind, 
and  I  am  still  convinced  that  I  ought  to  preach  the  gospel." 
— ''  How  long  do  you  intend  to  stay  in  this  town?  "  —  "I 
do  not  precisely  know ;  but  certainly  until  the  weather  and 
roads  shall  be  good." — "The  weather  will  do,  and  it  is 
pretty  good  travelling  now."  (At  this  time,  the  winter 
having  been  extreme I3'  severe,  the  roads  were  nearly  impas- 
sable.) "  I  do  not  believe  I  shall  quit  Gloucester  until 
April ;  about  that  time  I  expect  to  commence  a  journe3^  to 
Philadelphia."  —  "  The  town  is  very  uneasy  at  your  con- 
tinuance here,  and  we  are  a  committee  of  safety.  We  are 
to  take  up  all  strangers,  and  send  them  out  of  town."  — 
"  Sir,  I  have  already  been  warned  out  of  town,  and  if 
you  be  apprehensive  of  my  becoming  a  charge,  I  can  procure 
bonds."  One  of  the  committee  addressed  the  chair  for 
liberty  to  speak,  which  having  obtained,  he  said,  "  Your 
stay  in  this  town  is  cause  of  uneasiness  to  many.  You  hurt 
the  morals  of  the  people,  and  a  great  many  who  hear  you 
are  enemies  to  the  country."  Mr.  Murray  responded, 
"  Those  who  hear  me,  and  believe  what  I  deliver,  can  never 
be  injured  in  their  morals."  —  "  I  do  not  believe  you."  — 
"  You  have  not  heard  all  I  have  said  in  defence  of  my  per- 
suasion." —  "I  have  heard  enough ;  I  neither  believe^  nor 
like  it."  —  "  Well,  sir,  there  is  no  act  of  assembly  to  compel 
you  to  hear ;  but  you  should  remember  your  neighbor  is 
entitled  to  equal  liberty  with  yourself." — "You  deliver 
very  erroneous  principles."  —  "  M}'  principles  are  all  to  be 
21 


322  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

found  in  the  sacred  records  of  divine  truth."  —  "  Ay,  so 
you  say."  —  "I  was  not  apprised  that  I  was  cited  before  a 
spiritual  court."  Mr.  Murray  then  addressed  the  chair : 
"  Sir,  this  gentleman  asserts  that  I  associate  with  a  great 
manj^  enemies  of  this  country.  I  demand  that  they  be 
pointed  out.  If  I  associate  with  an  individual  of  this 
description,  it  is  unknown  to  me."  A  gentleman  at  the 
chairman's  elbow  observed,  "  Mr.  Chairman,  I  think  we 
have  no  business  to  answer  this  man  a  single  question. 
We  did  not  send  for  him  to  answer  his  questions,  but  to 
ask  questions  of  him." 

The  chairman  then  repeated  that  the  town  was  very  un- 
easy, and  advised  Mr.  Murray  to  depart  to  prevent  further 
trouble;  to  which  he  answered,  "  Sir,  I  have  been  nearly 
seven  years  in  this  countr3\  Perhaps  no  one  has  a  more 
extensive  acquaintance.  I  have  many  friends  and  many 
enemies.  I  feel  that  I  am  a  friend  to  all  mankind,  and  I 
am  happy  that  no  circumstance  of  my  life  can  prove  the 
contrary.  I  was  invited  to  this  town,  and  I  have  been  cor- 
dially received ;  but  it  seems  I  am  suspected,  because  I 
associate  with  many  who  are  enemies  to  this  country.  I 
associate  with  Captain  Winthrop  Sargent,*  —  pray,  is  he  an 
enemy?  During  my  residence  in  this  place  I  have  never 
heard  a  syllable  uttered  which  this  committee  ought  to 
consider  as  reprehensible.  I  am  not  acquainted  with  a 
single  individual  who  appears  to  me  an  enemy  to  this  coun- 
try. Two  or  three  worthy  characters  I  know,  who  do  not 
perfectly  approve  every  measure  which  has  been  adopted. 


*  Winthrop  Sargent.  I  have  supplied  the  full  name.  This  gentleman  was  one 
of  the  principal  citizens  of  the  place,  and  Mr.  Murray  resided  at  his  house.  He 
was  a  firm  and  decided  patriot,  and  so  the  citizens  considered  him,  for  they 
elected  him  in  1779  to  the  Convention  that  framed  the  Constitution.  —  T.W. 


LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  323 

I  have  recently  endeavored  to  recollect  how  many  gentle- 
men the  circle  of  my  connections  from  Maryland  to  New 
Hampshire  contained,  who  were  suspected  of  being  un- 
friendly to  the  present  order  of  things,  and  I  could  number 
but  five  persons,  not  an  individual  of  whom  has  ever  been 
proved  inimical  to  American  prosperit}'.  For  myself,  I 
rejoice  in  the  reflection  that  I  am  a  stanch  friend  to  liberty, 
genuine  liberty.  It  is  well  known  that  I  have  labored  to 
promote  the  cause  of  this  country,  and  I  rejoice  that  I  have 
not  labored  in  vain.  I  am  so  well  known,  and  I  have  the 
happiness  to  be  so  well  respected,  that  His  Excellency 
General  Washington  appointed  me  to  oflSciate  as  chaplain 
to  several  regiments.  I  should  have  imagined  this  would 
have  been  sufl3cient  credentials  here.  I  have  injured  no 
person  in  this  town.  I  am  invited  to  meet  my  friends  in 
the  house  of  a  friend,  where  they  desire  me  to  read  the 
Bible,  to  comment  thereon,  and  to  unite  with  them  in  sol- 
emn prayer  to  Almighty  God,  for  the  continuance  of  his 
mercies  to  us  as  a  people,  and  not  unto  us  only,  but  to  a 
once  lost  and  now  redeemed  world."  A  member  of  the 
committee  observed,  that  they  could  not  be  answerable  for 
anything  that  might  be  done  by  a  mob,  and  it  was  not  in 
their  power  to  prevent  it,  if  he  did  not  without  delay  leave  the 
town.  Mr.  Murray,  laying  his  spread  hand  upon  his  breast, 
answered,  "  Sir,  I  feel  such  a  consciousness  of  innocence 
here,  that  I  know  not  what  it  is  to  fear.  It  is  with  perfect 
composure  that  I  commit  myself  to  God,  and  the  laws  of 
this  Commonwealth.  If  I  have  broken  any  law,  let  me  be 
punished  by  law  ;  but  I  bless  God  I  am  not  a  lawless  per- 
son. Sir,  I  am  a  stranger  to  fear ;  I  have  committed  no 
action  worthy  of  punishment.  Sir,  I  know  not  what  it  is 
to  fear.     No  man  can  have  any  power  over  me,  except  it 


324  LIFE    OF  KEY.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

be  given  to  him  from  above ;  no  injuiy  can  be  done  me,  but 
by  the  permission  of  my  God.  But  I  am  not  afraid.  The 
worst  this  mob  can  do,  is  to  deprive  me  of  a  life  which  I 
have  been  many  years  quite  willing  to  resign.  Sir,  I  com- 
mit m3'self  and  m}-  cause  to  the  Ruler  of  heaven  and  of 
earth."  One  gentleman  observed  that  the  rule  upon  earth 
was  delegated  to  them,  or  words  to  that  effect,  when  Mr. 
Murray  replied,  "  Sir,  I  conceive  the  God  of  heaven  is  the 
only  ruler  in  heaven  above,  and  in  earth  beneath,"  and, 
addressing  the  chair,  he  added,  "  Sir,  I  have  answered 
ever}^  question  3'ou  have  thought  proper  to  ask ;  and  as  I 
find  it  difficult  to  speak,  I  am  so  very  ill,  I  will  take  leave 
to  wish  3'OU  a  good-evening.  Gentlemen,  good-night ; " 
when  without  interruption  he  departed. 

Alas,  alas  !  how  tyrannical  is  the  dominion  of  prejudice  ! 
In  this  Instance  it  precipitated  men,  respectable  men,  who 
in  the  common  occurrences  of  life  had  uniformly  preserved 
a  decent  reputation,  upon  a  procedure  the  most  absurd  and 
unwarrantable.  Interrogations  so  unceremonious!}^  made 
to  a  person  who,  as  the  almoner  of  his  God,  had,  the  pre- 
ceding 3^ear,  fed  large  numbers  of  their  almost  famished 
poor,  who  had  never  committed  any  act  of  violence,  or 
discovered  the  smallest  inclination  to  aid  the  enemies  of 
the  New  World,  were,  as  we  trust,  a  singular  outrage.  But 
Mr.  Murray  was  a  Christian,  and  after  the  way  that  they 
called  heresy^  so  worshipped  he  the  God  of  his  fathers  ;  he 
could  not,  therefore,  be  allowed  to  merit  either  confidence 
or  gratitude. 

On  the  Christmas  day  of  1780,  Mr.  Murray  first  preached 
in  a  small,  neat  building,  erected  for  his  use  b}"  the  Glouces- 
terians.  *     His    adherents,  associated  for  public  worship, 

*  See  Engraving,  Glouccbter  Meeting-house. 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  325 

had,  as  they  believed,  organized  themselves,  aiid,  solemnly 
covenanting  together,  they  conceived  themselves  an  inde- 
pendent CHUKCH  OF  Christ.  A  writing  was  prepared, 
signed  b}'  ever}'  individual  of  the  congregation,  in  which, 
after  dilating  upon  the  fundamental  principles  of  the  faith 
thej^  had  embraced,  the}^  professed  to  acknowledge,  as 
Christians,  no  Master  but  Jesus  Christ,  receiving  as  their 
guide  in  spiritual  matters  onlj-  the  word  and  spirit  of  the 
Redeemer  ;  but  they  pledged  themselves  to  the  community 
at  large,  and  to  each  other,  to  jield  obedience  to  every 
ordinance  of  man,  to  be  peaceable  and  obedient  subjects  to 
the  powers  ordained  of  God,  in  all  civil  cases.  But  as  sub- 
jects of  that  King  whose  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world, 
the}'  denied  the  right  of  an}'  human  authority  to  make  laws 
for  the  regulation  of  their  consciences  ;  *  they  rejoiced  in 


*  About  this  time  the  Convention  was  in  session  for  forming  the  Constitution 
for  the  Coramonwealtli  of  Massachusetts.  It  seems  some  of  the  members  were 
somewhat  alarmed  at  the  spread  of  Mr.  Murray's  sentiments  ;  for  the  following 
is  the  form  of  the  Third  Article  of  the  Bill  of  Rights,  as  it  was  first  reported  to 
the  Convention. 

"Good  morals  being  necessary  to  the  preservation  of  civil  society;  and  the 
knowledge  and  belief  of  the  being  of  a  God,  his  providential  government  of  the 
world,  and  of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punUhments,  being  the  only  true 
foundation  of  morality,  the  legislature  hath  therefore  a  right,  and  ought  to  pro- 
vide, at  the  expense  of  the  subjects,  if  necessary,  a  suitable  support  for  the  public 
worsliip  of  God,  and  of  the  teachers  of  religion  and  morals;  and  to  enjoin  upon 
ail  the  subjects  an  attendance  upon  their  instructions  at  stated  times  and  seasons ; 
provided  there  be  any  such  teacher  on  whose  ministry  they  can  conscientiously 
and  conveniently  attend. 

"  All  moneys  paid,''  etc. 

This  form,  after  a  very  long  and  severe  debate,  was  rejected.  Previous  to  the 
adoption  of  the  Third  Article,  as  it  was  submitted  to,  and  ratified  by,  the  people, 
it  was  very  seriously  attempted  to  alter  it  in  the  place  where  it  says,  "  and  every 
denomination  of  Christians  shall  be  equally  under  the  protection  of  the  laws," 
by  having  it  read,  "  and  every  denomination  of  Christians,  whose  avowed  princi- 
ples are  not  inconsistent  with  the  peace  and  safety  of  society,^'  or,  "  except  such 
whose  principles  are  repugnant  to  the  Constitution  J"    But  there  was  wisdom 


o26  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

Llie  liberty  wherewith  Christ  had  made  them  free,  and  thei? 
determined  no  more  to  be  entangled  by  any  3'oke  of  bond- 
age. They  professed  a  disposition  to  live  peaceably  with 
all  men,  to  avoid  unnecessary  disputation  ;  and,  should  they 
be  reviled,  to  endeavor  in  patience  to  possess  their  souls. 
We  make  from  this  solemn  instrument  the  following 
extract :  — 

''As  an  INDEPENDENT  CHURCH  OF  Chkist  thus  bouud 
together  by  the  cords  of  his  love,  and  meeting  together  in 
his  name,  we  mutually  agree  to  receive  as  our  Minister, 
that  is,  our  servant,  sent  to  labor  amongst  us  in  the  work 
of  the  gospel  by  the  great  Lord  of  the  vineyard,  our  friend 
and  brother,  John  Murray.  This  we  do  from  a  full  con- 
viction that  the  same  God  who  sent  the  first  preachers  of 
Jesus  Christ,  sent  him  ;  and  that  the  same  gospel  they 
preached  we  have,  from  time  to  time,  received  from  him. 
Thus  believing  him  a  Minister  of  the  New  Testament,  con- 
stantly declaring  the  whole  counsel  of  God,  proclaiming  the 
same  <1ivine  truth  that  all  God's  holy  prophets  from  the 
beginning  of  the  world  have  declared,  we  cordially  rect;ive 
him  as  a  messenger  from  God.  And  as  it  hath  pleased 
God  to  open  a  great  and  effectual  door  for  the  preaching  of 
his  gospel,  by  this  his  servant,  in  sundry  parts  of  tliis 
great  continent ;  whenever  it  shall  please  his  and  our  divine 
Master  to  call  him  to  preach  the  everlasting  gospel  else- 
where, we  will  wish  him  God-speed  ;  and  pray  that  the  good- 
will of  Him  who  dwelt  in  the  bush  ma}^  accompan}'  him,  and 
make  his  way  clear  before  him." 

enough  in  the  Convention  to  defeat  these  disguised  attempts  on  the  liberties  of 
the  people. 

See  the  work  lately  published  by  order  of  the  legislature,  entitled  "  Journal 
of  Couveution,  17?y-S0."—  T.  W. 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  327 

Thus,  we  repeat,  the  little  congregation  in  Gloucester 
considered  themselves  an  iXDEPENDrxx  church  of  Christ. 
The}'  were  conscious  that  they  had,  in  every  instance, 
demeaned  themselves  as  good  citizens,  and  that  their 
utmost  efforts  had  uniformly  been  embodied  for  the 
advancement  of  the  public  weal.  They  felt  themselves 
deservedly  invested  with  the  privileges  and  immunities 
of  free  citizens,  entitled  to  those  liberties  with  which  God 
and  nature  had  endowed  them,  and  which  they  believed  to 
be  secured  to  them  by  a  constitution  of  government  happily 
established  b}'  the  people  of  this  Commonwealth.  Dissent- 
ing essentiall}'  from  the  doctrines  taught  by  the  established 
minister,  the}^  had  borne  an  early  testimony  against  his 
settlement ;  and  the}'  hurabl}"  hoped  it  would  be  sufficient 
for  them  to  believe  the  holy  scriptures,  and  to  adopt  the 
pure  sj'stem  of  morals  contained  therein  as  the  rule  of  their 
conduct,  and  the  man  of  their  counsel.  They  rejoiced 
in  the  libert}^  of  free  inquiry,  guaranteed  by  the  strong  arm 
of  government ;  and  they  felicitated  themselves  that  they 
had  been  ushered  into  being  at  a  time  when  that  fearful 
period  had  gone  b}',  which,  arming  the  religionist  with  the 
potent  vengeance  of  civil  authority,  wrapped  the  whole 
world  in  a  cloud  of  impenetrable  darkness,  debilitated  the 
human  intellect  b}"  closing  the  door  of  free  inquir}',  and 
gave  birth  to  eight  hundred  years  of  ignorance  and  bar- 
barism, unequalled  b}'  any  preceding  era;  whence  arose 
an  awful  chasm  in  the  history  of  the  world,  and  men  ceased 
to  think  because  thinking  was  a  crime.  The  Gloucesterians 
adopted  the  idea  of  a  respectable  writer,  who  considered 
ordination  as  nothing  more  than  the  solemn  putting  a  man 
into  his  place  and  office  in  the  church,  a  right  to  which  he 
had  obtained  by  previous  election,  which,  together  with  his 


328  LIFE    OF  REV.  JOHN  MURRAY. 

voluntary  acceptance  of  such  election,  becarae  a  legitimate 
base,  upon  which  was  founded  the  relationship  between 
pastor  and  flock.  Thus,  as  the  word  ordain  signifies  no 
more  than  to  appoint,  they  conceived  that  the  election^  and 
not  the  laying  on  of  hands,  completed  the  ordination. 
Reposing  upon  the  second  and  third  article  in  the  declara- 
tion of  rights,  the  Gloucesterians  exultingly  said,  ''  Xo 
subject  shall  be  hurt,  molested,  or  restrained  in  his  person, 
libert}',  or  estate,  for  worshipping  God  in  the  manner  and 
season  most  agreeable  to  the  dictates  of  his  own  conscience  ; 
or  for  his  religious  profession  or  sentiments,  provided  he 
doth  not  disturb  the  public  peace,  or  obstruct  others  in  their 
religious  worship.  All  religious  societies  shall,  at  all 
times,  have  the  exclusive  right  of  electing  their  public 
teachers,  and  of  contracting  with  them  for  their  support 
and  maintenance.  And  all  moneys  paid  by  the  subject  to  the 
support  of  public  worship,  shall,  if  he  require  it,  be  uniformly 
applied  to  the  support  of  the  public  teacher  or  teachers  of  his 
own  religious  sect  or  denomination,  provided  there  be  any  on 
whose  instructions  he  attends.''  But  while  the  Gloucesterians 
were  confidently  singing  a  requiem  to  their  cares,  they 
beheld,  to  their  great  astonishment,  and  no  s.nall  disma}', 
their  goods  seized  by  an  officer,  and  sold  at  auction,  for  the 
purpose  of  answering  the  demands  of  the  established 
minister.  Articles  of  plate  from  one,  English  goods  from 
another,  and,  from  a  third,  the  anchor  of  a  vessel  on  the 
point  of  sailing. 

It  was,  as  we  believe,  in  the  autumn  of  1783  that  this 
act  of  violence  took  place.  An  action  was  instituted  b}' 
the  Indc|)cndent  Church  of  Christ  in  Gloucester.  Mr.  Mur- 
ray' was  urged  to  allow  the  prosecution  to  proceed  in  his 
name.     His  reluctance  to  this  step  was  decided  and  affect- 


LIFE    OF  REV,    JOHX  MURRAY.  329 

ing.  He  bad  passed  through  the  countiy  without  even 
allowing  or  accepting  contributions  ;  and  to  be  considered 
a  prosecutor  for  moneys  said  to  be  due  to  him  for  preaching 
the  gospel^  which  he  had  determined  to  promulgate  free  as 
the  light  of  heaven!  —  the  ver^'  idea  was  a  stab  to  his  long- 
cherished  feelings.  It  appeared  to  him  like  prostrating  the 
integrit}'  of  his  character,  and  stripping  him  of  those 
honors  which  he  had  fondly  hoped  would  remain  forever 
unshorn.  The  situation  of  his  mind  upon  this  occasion 
may  be  gathered  from  two  extracts  of  letters,  addressed  to 
him  by  a  respectable  gentleman:  "You  know  the  induce- 
ment 1  had  to  engage  in  this  cause  was  to  be  emancipated 
from  the  shackles  of  a  pontificate  :  and  mj^  aversion  was 
ever  determined  from  having  the  suit  brought  in  3'Gur  name, 
as  well  from  your  abhorrence,  as  that  the  result,  however 
favorable,  would  not  establish  us  upon  the  broad  base  of 
genuine  freedom.  However,  I  am  now  convinced  from 
reflection  that  our  cause  will  be  ruined  unless  3'ou  assume 
it.  Mr.  Hilchborne  was  clear  it  ought  to  have  been  in  your 
name  before.  At  our  pressing  request,  he  drew  the  last 
writ.  Mr.  Sullivan  has  declared  it  must  be  in  your  name. 
Mr.  Pynchon  (allowed  on  all  hands  to  be  deeph'  versed  in 
the  intricacies  of  the  law)  assured  a  gentleman  he  would 
warrant  success,  and  even  undertake  the  conducting  the 
cause,  if  the  proper  use  were  made  of  your  name.  Mr. 
Sewall's  opinion  is  in  unison  with  Mr.  PN'uchon.  I  hate 
dela}'  and  indecision,  and  shall  lament  if  chicane  and  polit- 
ical views  must  prevail  over  the  purest  intentions." 

To  this  letter  Mr.  Murray  responded,  in  terms  descriptive 
of  much  anguish  of  spirit,  and  his  S3"mpathizing  friend 
immediately  replied :  — 


330  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

"  I  essa}^  not  to  communicate  the  impression  which  your 
letter  has  made  upon  me.  Would  that  pen  and  paper  were 
adequate  to  express  all  that  could  be  conveyed  by  the 
tongue.  Shall  I  be  condemned  for  being  of  an  unsteady 
disposition,  or  shall  I  be  justified  in  mj^  change  of  senti- 
ment from  the  variety  of  events?  Be  it  as  it  may,  it 
matters  not ;  3'our  letter  has  produced  another  alteration 
in  my  mind.  Your  conflict  between  the  resolution  you 
have  taken,  and  the  interest  of  your  friends,  which  I  am 
persuaded  is  very  dear  to  you,  is  carried  on  in  3'our  breast 
to  a  degree  of  agony.  I  see  how  distressing  it  is  for  you, 
even  in  appearance^  to  stand  forth  and  contend  for  what 
you  have  so  nobly  held  in  sovereign  contempt.  In  this  point 
of  view  it  ceases  to  be  a  question.  Let  the  idea  of  interest 
perish.  I  had  rather  a  large  part  of  mine,  dear  as  it  is, 
should  be  wrested  from  me,  than  that  yow  should  eacrifice 
an}^  portion  of  your  peace  or  yoMY  honor ;  therefore  I  en- 
treat 3'ou,  my  dear  sir,  do  no  violence  to  your  feelings. 
I  thank  God,  the  truth  of  our  cause  does  not  depend  upon 
the  decision  of  a  court  of  judicature  ;  and,  admit  the  worsts 
it  is  only  what  we  are  bidden  to  expect,  that  this  world  is 
opposed  to  the  other.  Justice,  however,  notwithstanding 
my  sympathy  for  j^ou,  urges  me  to  repeat  that  our  lawyers 
see  no  rational  prospect  of  success,  but  from  3'our  becoming 
a  PRINCIPAL  in  the  business.  If  you  can  bend  your  mind, 
well ;  take  time  to  deliberate  ;  delays  in  law,  perhaps,  are 
not  so  dangerous  as  in  other  affairs  ;  at  any  rate,  I  entreat 
you  to  become  more  tranquil.  I  had  rather  make  payment 
to  Parson  Forbes  than  that  you  should  thus  suffer." 

The  preacher,  under  the  direction  of  many  importuning 
friends,  loaned  his  name,  which  step  was  to   him   a  per- 


LIFE    OF  EEV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  331 

manent  subject  of  regret.*  Trials  succeeded  trials,  review 
after  review,  at  Salem,  and  at  the  Supreme  Judicial  Court, 
held  at  Ipswich,  in  1783,  1784,  and  1785. 

The  pleaders  seemed  an  invincible  phalanx,  and  the 
mind-bending  eloquence  of  the  Honorable  Mr.  King  was 
indeed  a  most  potent  aid.  Men  characterized  the  oratory 
of  that  gentleman,  as  persuading,  commanding,  and  like 
an  irresistible  torrent  bearing  down  every  obstacle.  Man}" 
of  the  senior  advocates  seemed  so  to  feel  and  acknowledge 
the  superiority  of  Mr.  King,  as  to  surrender  to  him  the 
right  of  closing  causes  of  great  importance ;  and  a  high 
law  character  declared,  that,  had  he  a  cause  depending, 
of  the  greatest  intricac\'  and  magnitude,  to  be  plead  before 
the  first  tribunal  in  the  world,  he  would  prefer  Mr.  King  as 
his  advocate  to  any  man  he  had  ever  heard  speak.  Previous, 
however,  to  the  adjudication  of  1785,  when  a  verdict  in 
favor  of  the  plaintiffs  by  the  suflfrage  of  the  jury  (exclusive 
of  the  judges)  was  obtained,  the  political  career  of  this 
celebri.'?d  character  removed  him  from  their  counsel,  and 
their  cau^e  was  committed  to,  and  ably  supported  by,  Mr., 
afterwards  Governor,  Sullivan,  and  Judge  Tudor.  The  late 
Chief  Justice  Parsons  and  Mr,  Bradbury  were  counsel  for 
the  defendants.     The  Gloucesterians,  in  their  appeal  to  the 

*  This  perhaps  is  expressed  too  strongly.  It  is  true  that  Mr.  Murray  at  lirst 
very  unwilliugly  lent  his  name  as  the  prosecutor;  but  afterwards,  in  view  of 
the  good  which  resulted  from  the  lawsuit,  it  became  a  subject  of  pleasant  re- 
flection to  him.  Hearw^hathe  says,  shortly  after  his  return  from  England,  in 
1788:  — 

"  I  have  been  the  happy  instrument,  of  which  the  God  of  peace  and  mercy  has 
made  use,  to  give  a  death  wound  to  that  hydra,  parochial  persecution.  Persons 
now  under  the  denomination  of  Independents,  who  believe  and  bear  witness  to 
the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  are  endowed  with  every  privilege  possessed  by  the 
national  church,  or  establislied  religion;  and,  of  course,  my  situation  since  my 
return  has  been  abundantly  more  eligible  than  it  was  previous  to  ray  depart- 
ure." —  Letters  and  Sketches,  ii.  351,  352.  —  T.  W. 


•332  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

'•  impartial  public,"  pertinently  observed  that  the  decision 
•of  the  question,  agitated  respecting  them,  ultimately  in- 
volved every  citizen  of  the  Commonwealth,  and  instant! 3' 
affected  the  several  religious  orders  of  Episcopalians, 
Baptists,  Presbyterians,  Sandemanians,  Quakers,  and  ever}^ 
other  denomination  of  Chiistians,  who,  in  this  State,  were 
called  sectaries. 

Upon  the  objection  that  their  teacher  was  not  a  preacher 
of  piet}^,  religion,  and  morality,  they  mildly  observed, 
they  were  not  convinced  that  the  question  could  be  de- 
termined from  a  revision  of  the  motives  he  offered  as  to  the 
rewards  which  are  to  be  bestowed,  or  punishments  inflicted, 
in  another  world.  They  rather  supposed  it  should  be  de- 
cided upon  the  evidence  of  his  urging  the  people  to 
piety  and  morality,  as  the  foundation  of  the  greatest 
good  of  which  their  natures  were  capable,  and  as 
a  compliance  with  the  will  of  their  Almighty  Creator 
and  Preserver.  They  believed  that  the  Scriptures  affirmed 
that  God  w^ould  punish  men  for  sin,  even  in  this  world, 
in  a  manner  which  would  fai\  very  /a?',  overbalance  the 
pleasures  to  be  derived  from  vice.  They  conceived  that 
the  idea  that  it  was  necessary  to  the  good  order  of  govern- 
ment, that  the  teachers  of  religion  should  thunder  out  the 
doctrine  of  everlasting  punishment  to  deter  men  from  atro- 
cious crimes,  which  they  might  otherwise  commit  in  secret, 
had  long  been  hackneyed  in  the  hands  of  men  in  power, 
but  without  any  warrant  from  reason  or  revelation.  Reason, 
without  the  aid  of  revelation,  gave  no  intimation  of  a  state 
of  retribution  beyond  the  grave  ;  and  the  gospel  brought 
life  and  immortality  to  light ;  nor,  said  tlie\%  was  it  until 
the  Christian  church  w^as  illegall}'  wedded  to  State  polic} , 
that  men  in  power  dared  to  hurl  the  thunders  of  the  Most 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  333 

High  at  those  who  offended  against  government.  But, 
the}"  added,  should  the  point  be  maintained,  that  courts 
and  juries  are  authorized  to  determine  whether  the  teacher 
of  a  religious  sect  is  a  teacher  of  morality,  from  his  opinion 
either  of  the  cause,  mode,  or  state  of  men's  happiness  or 
misery  in  another  world,  or  from  his  opinion  of  the  nature 
or  proportions  of  the  rewards  for  virtue,  or  the  punishments 
for  vice,  in  a  future  state,  no  sect  or  denomination  could 
be  safe,  it  being  a  matter  resting  on  opinion  only,  without 
any  earthly  tribunal  having  the  ability  or  authority  to 
settle  the  question.  Suppose  an  Episcopalian  teacher 
should  have  an  action  in  his  name  to  recover  the  money  paid 
b}'  his  hearers.  Perhaps  he  might  be  one  who  had  subscribed 
and  sworn  to  the  thirtj'-nine  articles,  the  truth  of  icJiich  is 
well  supported  by  act  of  Parliament.  An  objection  might  be 
made  from  one  of  the  articles,  that  tells  us,  God  from  all  eter- 
nity elected  a  certain  number  to  happiness,  and  predestinat- 
ed all  the  rest  of  the  human  race  to  everlasting  misery  ;  and 
this  of  his  own  sovereign  will,  without  an}'  regard  to  the  merit 
of  the  one,  or  the  demerit  of  the  other.  A  jury  might  be  found 
who  would  decide  at  once  that  this  doctrine  is  subversive 
of  all  morality  and  good  order  ;  for,  if  the  state  of  every  man 
be  unalterably  fixed  from  all  eternity,  and  nothing  done  by 
him  can  in  any  wise  change  the  divine  decree,  why,  then  the 
elect  may  conceive  themselves  justified  in  seeking  to  injure 
those  whom  God  from  eternity  has  consigned  to  perdition. 
But  should  an  Arminian  be  on  trial,  and  it  appeared  he 
taught  his  people  it  was  within  their  own  power  to  procure 
future  happiness,  a  jury  might  not  be  able  to  distinguish 
between  the  prescience  and  the  foreordination  of  God  ;  and 
it  might  be  called  impiety  to  allege  that  the  infinitely  wise 
Being  did  not  from  all  eternity  know  the  ultimate  fate  of 


334  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN   MURRAY. 

all  bis  creatures.  It  would  at  least  be  called  derogatory  to 
the  honor  of  the  Most  High,  to  suppose  anything  to  be 
contingent  with  him  ;  and  therefore  a  teacher  of  such  prin- 
ciples might,  in  the  eye  of  some  persons,  be  viewed  as  a 
teacher  of  impiet}^  and  immoralit3\  From  these,  and 
various  other  considerations,  the  Gloucesterians  humbl}' 
conceived  that  religion  was  a  matter  between  an  individual 
and  his  God  ;  that  no  man  had  a  right  to  dictate  a  mode  of 
worship  to  another ;  that  in  that  respect  every  man  stood 
upon  a  perfect  equality  ;  and  they  believed  that  the  paucity 
of  their  numbers,  and  the  prejudices  of  their  enemies,  had 
pointed  them  out  as  proper  objects  for  the  first  essay  of 
religious  tyranny.  Hence,  they  rather  chose  to  seek  redress 
from  the  great  law  made  b}'  the  people  to  govern  the  legis- 
lature, than  from  the  legislature  itself;  believing  they 
should  betray  the  freedom  of  their  country  if  they  timidly 
shrunk  from  a  trial  upon  the  great  principles  of  the  consti- 
tution. Indeed,  they  seemed  to  consider  themselves  as  the 
Hampdens  of  our  religious  world. 

In  the  course  of  the  month  of  September,  1785,  a  writ 
of  review  was  again  served,  and  the  final  decision  was 
referred  and  deferred  until  the  June  of  1786,  when  a  conclu- 
sive verdict  was  obtained  in  favor  of  the  plaintiff's.  Mr. 
Murray  w^as  then  in  the  State  of  Connecticut.  AYe  tran- 
scribe an  extract  from  a  letter  which  wafted  to  the  eye  and 
ear  of  the  promulgator  intelligence  of  the  emancipation  of 
his  adherents. 

"  Last  Tuesday  our  party  with  their  cloud  of  witnesses 
were  present,  and  called  out  at  the  bar  of  the  Supreme 
Judicial  Court.  The  cause  was  opened  by  Mr.  Bradbury, 
and  replied  to  by  Mr.  Hitchborne.  The  court  adjourned  to 
the  succeeding  morning.     I  arrived  just  in  season  to  hear  it 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN   MURRAY.  335 

taken  up  by  Mr.  Parsons,  and  closed  b}^  Mr.  Sullivan.  I 
wish  for  an  opportunity  to  render  my  acknowledgments  to 
this  gentleman.  He  displayed  upon  this  d^y  an  eloquence 
not  less  than  Roman.  The  judges  summed  up  the  whole. 
The  first  was  ambiguous,  the  second  was  so  trammelled  and 
inarticulate  as  to  be  scarcel}'  understood  ;  but  the  remain- 
ing three  have  acquired  a  glor}"  which  will  be  as  lasting  as 
time.  The  conduct  of  Judge  Dana  attracted  particular 
notice.  You  remember  he  heretofore  labored  against  us. 
There  appeared  a  disposition  to  traverse  our  counsel ;  in  his 
comments  on  the  constitution,  those  parts  which  made  for 
us  he  turned  against  us  ;  he  asserted  the  tax  was  not  per- 
secuting, but  legal ;  religious  societies  were  bodies  corpo- 
rate, or  meant  to  be  so ;  sect  and  denomination  were  pro- 
miscuously used  and  synonymous ;  and  the  whole  was 
delivered  with  a  sententious  gravitj^  the  result  of  faculties 
laboriously  cultivated  by  experience  and  study.  But  a 
revolution  had  now  passed  in  his  mind,  and  when  he  noticed 
that  article  in  the  constitution  which  directs  moneys  to  be 
applied  to  the  teacher  of  his  own  religious  sect,  he  said  the 
whole  cause  depended  upon  the  construction  of  that  clause. 
He  had  heretofore  been  of  opinion  it  meant  teachers  of 
bodies  corporate  ;  he  then  thought  otherwise.  As  the  con- 
stitution was  meant  for  a  liberal  purpose,  its  construction 
should  be  of  a  most  liberal  kind.  It  meant  in  this  instance 
teachers  of  any  persuasion  whatever,  Jew  or  Mahometan. 
It  would  be  for  the  jury  to  determine  if  Mr.  Murray  was  a 
teacher  of  piet}",  religion,  and  morality.  That  matter,  he 
said,  had  in  his  opinion  been  fully  proved.  The  only  ques- 
tion, therefore,  before  them  was,  if  Mr.  Murray  came  within 
the  description  of  the  constitution,  and  had  a  right  to 
require    the  monej^     "It  is   my   opinion,"    he   decidedly 


336  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

declared,  "  that  Mr.  Murra}^  comes  within  the  description 
of  the  constitution,  and  has  a  right  to  require  the  mone3\" 
The  jury  received  the  cause,  and  departed  the  court  at  half 
past  three.  In  the  evening  they  returned  with  a  declara- 
tion that  they  could  not  agree.  The  chief  judge  with  some 
asperity  ordered  them  to  take  the  papers  and  go  out  again. 
The}'  continued  in  deliberation  through  the  whole  night. 
Thursday  morning  they  came  in  again,  declaring  their 
unanimous  agreement  that  the  judgment  obtained  the  pre- 
ceding 5'ear  was  in  nothing  erroneous.  Thus  have  we  gained 
our  cause,  after  trials  of  such  expectation  and  severity. 
We  rejoice  greatly.  '  It  is  the  Lord's  doings,  and  marvellous 
in  our  eyes.'  " 

Mr.  Murray  continued  uniformly  to  devote  the  summer 
months  to  his  multiplied  adherents  from  Maryland  to  New 
Hampshire.  In  what  manner  is  copiously  described  in  his 
"  LeUers  and  Sketches  of  Sermons."  In  the  Februarj^  of 
1783,  we  find  the  preacher,  as  usual,  deeply  interested  in 
the  cause  of  his  great  Master,  and  suggesting  in  a  letter 
to  his  liiend  and  fellow-laborer,  Mr.  Noah  Parker,  the  pro- 
priety of  an  annual  meeting  of  the  heralds  of  redemption. 
His  words  are  :  "  Indeed,  it  would  gladden  my  heart,  if  every 
one  who  stands  forth  a  public  witness  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in 
Jesus,  could  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  and  conversing 
one  .with  anotlier  at  least  once  every  year.  I  believe  it 
would  be  attended  with  very  good  effects.  Think  of  it,  m}' 
friend,  and  let  me  know  the  result  of  3^our  deliberation.  I 
think  these  servants  of  the  Most  High  might  assemble  one 
year  at  Norwich,  one  3'ear  at  Boston,  and  another  at  Ports- 
mouth, or  wherever  it  may  be  most  convenient.  I  have 
long  contemplated  an  association  of  this  description ;  and 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  337 

the  longer  I  deliberate,  the  more  I  am  convinced  of  the 
utility  which  would  be  annexed  to  the  regulation." 

In  the  September  of  1785,  the  preacher,  writing  to  the 
same  friend,  thus  expresses  himself:  "  Although  very  much 
indisposed,  I  am  commencing  a  journe}^  to  Oxford,  where  I 
expect  to  meet  a  number  of  our  religious  brethren  from 
different  towns  in  which  the  gospel  has  been  preached  and 
believed,  for  the  purpose  of  deliberating  upon  some  plan  to 
defeat  the  designs  of  our  enemies,  who  aim  at  robbing  us 
of  the  liberty  wherewith  the  constitution  has  made  us  free. 
On  my  return  I  shall  communicate  to  you  the  result  of  our 
meeting."  Upon  the  close  of  the  same  month  of  Septem- 
ber he  thus  writes  :  "  Well,  I  have  been  to  Oxford,  and  the 
assembly  convened  there  was  trul}^  primitive.  We  delib- 
erated, first,  on  a  name  ;  secondly,  on  the  propriety  of 
being  united  in  our  common  defence  ;  thirdl}^,  upon  the 
utility  of  an  annual  meeting  of  representatives  from  the 
different  societies  ;  and,  fourthl}',  upon  keeping  up  a  con- 
stant correspondence  b}'  letter.  Each  of  the  particulars 
is  to  be  laid  before  the  societies  represented  b}^  their  del- 
egates on  this  occasion,  and,  if  approved,  their  approba- 
tion to  be  announced  b}^  circular  letters  to  the  several 
societies.  Mr.  Winchester  delivered  a  most  excellent 
sermon.  His  subject  was,  '  But  though  we,  or  an  angel 
from  heaven  preach  any  other  gospel  unto  3'ou,  than  that 
which  we  have  preached  unto  you,  let  him  be  accursed.' 
By  the  desire  of  Mr.  Winchester,  I  closed  the  subject." 

Thus  was  a  convention  formed,  and,  we  ma}^  add,  organ- 
ized by  the  father  of  Universalism  in  this  countrj'.  But, 
alas  !  in  no  long  time  a  root  of  bitterness  sprang  up,  whicli 
destro3ed  his  pleasure  in  the  association.  Yet,  in  the  last 
stage  of  his  pilgrimage,  he  frequently  regretted  that  his 


338  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

attendance  upon  this  convention  had  not  been  more  uniform  ; 
as  he  might  possibl}- ,  by  his  j^ears  and  his  experience,  have 
met  and  obviated  the  difficulties  which  distressed  him. 
Mr.  Winchester,  searching  the  Bible  for  arguments  to  con- 
fute Mr.  Murra}^,  became  himself  a  Universalist,  but  he 
was  a  Universalist  of  the  Chauncian  school.  He  was 
a  man  of  pure  morals,  and  an  ardent  lover  of  the  Re- 
deemer.* 

At   this  period,  in    addition  to   the  houses  erected    in 

*  At  the  convention  at  Oxford,  there  were  represented  societies  at  Gloucester, 
Boston,  Milford,  and  Oxford.  AVe  suppose  that  Mr.  Murray  was  present  at 
each  session  up  to  1791.  He  also  journeyed  to  Bennington,  Vt.,  to  attend  the 
session  of  1795.  Wcfind  him  again  at  Sturbridge,  in  1804."  These  two  appear  to 
be  the  only  sessions  at  which  he  was  present  after  1791.  The  "  root  of  bitterness  " 
to  which  Mrs.  Murray  refers  was  probably  the  widening  divergence  of  the  views 
of  Ills  brethren  from  those  of  Mr.  ^Murray.  Not  only  did  these  relate  to  exposi- 
tions, but  also  to  what  he  deemed  fundamental  doctrines.  Some  had  already, 
even  before  Mr.  Ballou's  day,  adopted  the  sentiment  that  the  painful  consequen- 
ces of  siu  are  confined  to  this  life.  Others,  retaining  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity, 
rejected  the  theory  of  vicarious  atonement ;  while  the  general  tendency  of  thought 
among  Universalists  was  in  the  direction  of  Unitarian  views  of  the  divine  nature. 
These  various  sentiments,  conflicting  with  his  own  cherished  ideas  of  gospel 
truth,  caused  Mr.  Murray  much  uneasiness.  There  was  constant  collision  be- 
tween his  kindness  of  heart  and  fraternal  spirit,  and  his  Christian  earnestness. 
In  his  intercourse  with  his  brethren,  believed  to  be  in  error  and  leading  others 
astray,  he  was  at  times  full  of  affectionateness,  while  at  others  his  anxiety  would 
find  expression.  It  is  certain  that  he  sometimes  expressed  himself  very  strongly 
with  reference  to  the  views  of  his  differing  brethren.  Writing  of  Mr.  Winches- 
ter's opinions,  which  included  the  idea  of  the  satisfaction  of  divine  justice,  Mr. 
Murray  says,  "  I  know  no  persons  further  from  Christianity,  genuine  Christian- 
ity, than  such  Universalists."  And  yet  of  Mr.  Winchester  himself,  Mr.  M. 
always  wrote  and  spoke  in  the  kindest  terms.  But  he  was  so  earnest  in  his 
faith,  and  each  item  of  it,  that  he  could  not  view  with  indifference  the  evident 
departure  of  the  church  he  had  organized  from  it.  He  especially  viewed  "  Socin- 
ianism"witb  abhorrence;  and  professed  more  sympathy  with  Calvinistic  Par- 
tialism  than  with  Unitarian  Universalism.  Mr.  Ballou's  growing  influence  must 
have  been  truly  painful  to  him.  But  he  continued  with  fidelity  and  zeal  to  pro- 
claim the  gospel  of  universal  salvation,  a  ministry  which  he  loved,  upon  the  basis 
of  the  prinuplis  he  had  adopted,  and  to  which  he  firmly  adhered  to  the  close 
ofhislife.  — G.L.D. 


'I  i^^ 


LIFE    OF    REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  339 

Gloucester  and  in  Portsmouth,  a  convenient  place  for  pub- 
lic worship  was  procured  b}^  the  Universalists  in  the  city 
of  Philadelphia,  and  in  the  cit}'  of  New  York  a  church  had 
been  purchased,  which  they  forbore  to  open  until  it  could 
be  dedicated  b}^  the  peace-speaking  voice  of  the  promulga- 
tor. In  the  course  of  the  autumn  or  winter  of  1785,  the 
Bostonians  purchased  a  meeting-house  in  Bennet  Street. 
Tliis  house  the}'  enlarged  and  beautified  ;  here  Mr.  Murray 
was    occasionally  their  officiating  minister.*     And  in  the 

*  The  building  was  of  wood,  and  stood  at  the  corner  of  Hanover  and  North 
Bennet  Streets,  — the  site  of  the  present  edifice,  wliich  was  occupied  by  the  First 
Universalist  Society  till  Sunday,  May  29,  18G4.  It  was  erected  by  a  society  of 
which  Rev.  Samuel  Mather  was  pastor,  in  1741,  — the  year  in  which  John  Mur- 
ray was  born.  The  building  was  sold  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  December,  1785,  to 
Shippie  Townjend,  James  Prentiss,  Jonathan  Stoddard,  John  Page,  and  Josiah 
Snelling,  who  purchased  it  in  behalf  of  the  small  society  of  Universalists,  which 
bad  been  gathered  under  the  ministrations  of  Mr.  Murray,  largely  aided  by  the 
Rev.  Adam  Strectir.  The  society  had  occupied  the  house  a  part  of  the  time  after 
the  death  of  Mr.  Matlier,  and  were  using  it  at  the  time  of  purchase.  In  the  sum- 
mer of  1792,  the  building  was  enlarged  to  its  final  capacity  and  thoroughly  re- 
modelled, preparatory  to  the  settlement  of  Mr.  Murray.  In  1806  more  repairs 
were  made ;  new  pews  built  in  the  south  gallery ;  those  on  the  first  floor  were 
altered,  and  "  all  the  pews  were  painted  one  color,"  and  the  house  itself  was 
painted  within  and  without,  and  the  entire  structure  was  put  in  a  state  of  thor- 
ough repair.  During  these  improvements  the  society  worshipped  in  Faneuil 
Hall,  where  Mr.  Murray  had  preached  the  first  time  on  the  twenty-sixth  of  No- 
vember, 1773,  In  1824,  the  year  in  which  Rev.  Sebastian  Streeter  was  settled, 
parts  of  the  building  were  remodelled,  and  "  a  splendid  glass  chandelier  procured 
and  suspended  at  the  centre  of  the  ceiling."  In  1828  the  la^t  repairs  or  altera- 
tions of  note  were  made.  These  consisted  of  a  removal  of  the  porch  on  Hanover 
Street,  a  new  corridor  being  made  under  the  gsllery  at  the  front  end,  with  three 
doors  entering  from  the  street;  new  staircases  were  made  to  the  galleries,  and 
material  alterations  made  for  the  accommodation  of  the  choir.  At  a  time  sub- 
sequent to  this  the  lower  floor  was  for  the  first  time  carpeted.  The  building 
remained  conditioned  thus  till  June  24,  1838,  when  the  last  services  were  held. 
An  audience  filling  the  house  to  repletion  listened  to  a  discourse  by  Rev.  Sebas- 
tian Streeter,  founded  on  Psalm  Ixxviii.  11th  verse:  "  I  will  remember  the  works 
of  the  Lord;  surely  I  will  remember  thy  wonders  of  old."  On  the  next  day  the 
work  of  demolition  was  commenced,  preparatory  to  the  erection  of  the  building 
which  now  occupies  the  same  site.  —  Comnmnicated. 


340  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN   MURRAY, 

metropolis  of  Pennsylvania,  New  York,  and  Massachusetts, 
he  was  earnestly  solicited  to  take  up  his  residence. 

Previous  to  the  decision  obtained  by  the  Gloucesterians, 
a  prosecution  was  commenced  against  their  preacher  for 
performing  the  marriage  ceremon3\  Persuaded  that  he 
was  commissioned  by  his  God  to  preach  tiie  gospel,  and 
knowing  that  he  was  ordained  by  the  people  to  whom  he 
administered,  he  believed  himself  authorized  to  receive  the 
nuptial  vows  of  as  many  among  his  adherents,  as,  furnished 
with  the  requisite  certificates,  made  application  to  him  for 
this  purpose.  A  single  instance  was  selected  by  his  im- 
placable foes,  and  a  special  verdict  obtained,  which  con- 
demned the  preacher  to  pay  a  fine  of  fifty  pounds.  But 
this  was  not  all ;  he  had  frequently  performed  the  marriage 
ceremony.  Prosecution  would  most  unquestionably  suc- 
ceed prosecution  ;  and  the  sum  total  of  multiplied  amerce- 
ments would  involve  difficulties  not  easily  surmounted. 
Prudence  whispered  the  persecuted  man  of  God,  that  he 
ought  to  absent  himself  until  the  interference  of  the  Legis- 
lature could  be  obtained  ;  and  inclination  pointed  his  way 
over  the  pathless  deep  for  the  purpose  of  once  more  visit- 
ing his  native  shores,  holding  sweet  converse  with  a  few 
select  friends,  and  folding  to  his  filial  bosom  his  venerable 
mother.  Assured  of  the  propriety  of  a  step  so  important 
to  his  numerous  American  connections,  on  the  sixth  of  Jan- 
uary. 1788,  he  embarked  for  England.  Noble  provision 
was  made  for  him  by  the  Bostonians,  and  all  the  expenses 
of  the  voyage  defrayed.  Russell,  the  benevolent  Russell, 
was  his  friend,  —  Russell  the  philanthropist;  who,  like  his 
God,  delighted  in  speaking  peace  to  the  sons  and  daughters 
of  adversity.  Dear,  sympathizing  friend  of  man  !  to  the 
children  of  sorrow  thy  memory  is  right  precious.     Had  thy 


LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY,  341 

stinted  abilities  been  commensurate  with  thy  will,  the 
voice  of  gladness  would  have  resounded  in  every  dwelling. 
Nor  Russell  alone ;  many  pressed  forward,  whose  liberal 
hearts  devised  liberal  things  ;  and  substantial  manifestations 
of  affection  to  the  preaclier  were  abundant  and  munificent. 

During  Mr.  Murray's  absence,  the  Legislature  was  ad- 
dressed. We  regret  that  we  cannot  exhibit  a  complete 
copy  of  the  petitions  which  were  presented ;  but  such  ex- 
tracts as  we  can  command  we  transcribe  :  — 

*'  To  the  Honorable  Senate,  and  the  House  of  Represen- 
tatives of  the  Commonwealth  of  Massachusetts,  assembled 
in  Boston  in  Februar}^,  1788  ;  John  Murray,  of  Gloucester, 
in  the  county  of  Essex,  would  humbly  represent  to  3'our 
Honors,  that  about  seventeen  3^ears  ago  he  came  into  this 
country,  which  he  considered  as  the  asjlum  of  religion  and 
benevolence  ;  that  on  his  arrival  he  began  to  preach  the 
gospel  of  peace,  in  doing  which  he  met  with  man}^  cordial 
friends  ;  some  of  whom,  namel}^,  a  societ}^  of  Christians  in 
Gloucester,  distinguished  themselves  by  their  uniform  at- 
tachment to  the  message  and  the  messenger.  And  after 
your  petitioner  had  occasionall}^  labored  among  them  for  a 
considerable  time,  they  associated  together  as  an  Indepen- 
dent Church,  built  a  meeting-house,  and  invited  j^our  peti- 
tioner to  reside  with  them  as  their  settled  minister  ;  and  in 
the  month  of  December,  in  the  year  1780,  did  appoint^  set 
apart^  and  ordain  him  to  the  work  of  the  ministry',  and  to 
be  their  teacher  of  piet}-,  religion,  and  moralit}^ ;  that  ever 
since  that  period  he  has  considered  himself,  and  has  been 
considered  b3^  the  people  he  has  statedly  labored  amongst, 
as  their  ordained  minister,  and  though  your  petitioner  has, 
on  sundry  occasions,  visited  and  labored  amongst  his 
Christian  friends  in  other  places,  it  has  alwaj  s  been  with 


342  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MUIiRAY. 

the  consent  of  his  people,  —  they  still  looking  on  him  and  he 
on  himself  as  their  ordained  minister.  It  also  appears, 
that  the  people  among  whom  your  petitioner  has  frequentl}^ 
labored,  have  considered  him  in  the  same  light ;  as  they 
have  formally  requested  license  of  his  people  of  Gloucester, 
who,  after  consultation,  granted  that  license.  Another 
circumstance  that  tended  to  confirm  your  petitioner  in  the 
belief  of  his  being  an  ordained  minister  in  the  strictest 
sense  of  the  word,  and  according  to  the  letter  and  spirit  of 
the  law,  was  the  verdict  given  in  favor  of  him  and  his  peo- 
ple, b}'  the  Honorable  Supreme  Court  and  jury,  when,  after 
suffering  much  abuse  from  their  persecuting  opponents  in 
Gloucester,  the}^  were  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  appljing 
to  the  laws  of  their  country  for  redress  and  protection. 
But  their  opponents,  dissatisfied  with  the  verdict  then  ob- 
tained, demanded  a  review  ;  after  which  review,  the  former 
verdict  was  confirmed  by  the  full  and  decided  opinion  of 
the  honorable  court  given  in  their  favor. 

"  Being  thus,  by  constitutional  right  and  legal  decision, 
established  as  an  independent  minister,  settled  with,  and 
ordained  b}',  the  joint  suffrages  of  the  members  of  that  re- 
ligious society,  3'our  petitioner  supposed  his  troubles  from 
his  persecuting  enemies  were  at  an  end.  And  upon  con- 
sulting counsel  learned  in  the  law,  who  gave  it  as  their  de- 
cided opinion  that  he  was  an  ordained  minister,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  perform  the  ceremon\'  of  marriage  to  such  of  his 
hearers  who  made  application  to  him  for  that  purpose.  But 
some  of  his  opponents,  unacquainted  with  the  independent 
mode  of  ordination,  and  presuming  3^our  petitioner  was  not 
ordained,  because  the  same  ceremonies  were  not  made  use 
of  in  his  ordination  to  the  use  of  which  they  were  accus- 
tomed, brought  the  question  of  3'our  petitioner's  right  of 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  343 

officiating  as  an  ordained  minister  before  the  judges  of  tlie 
Supreme  Judicial  Court,  who  gave  it  as  their  opinion  that 
he  was  not  an  ordained  minister,  in  the  sense  of  the  law, 
as  the  forms  of  his  ordination  were  not  sufficientl}^  notori- 
ous. Your  petitioner,  and  the  people  who  ordained  him, 
conceived  his  ordination  was  sufficiently  notorious,  as  the 
article  was  subscribed  b}^  every  member  of  the  society  ;  and 
the  honorable  court  considered  him  a  public  teacher  of  piet}', 
religion,  and  morality.  The  recent  adjudication  of  the 
honorable  judges  has  involved  3'our  petitioner's  little  flock, 
in  Gloucester,  in  expense  and  exquisite  distress,  and  your 
petitioner  is  ruined,  unless  3'our  Honors  can  interfere  for 
his  relief.  He  must  not  onl}^  satisfy'  the  heav}^  penalty 
alread}'  forfeited,  to  his  said  opponents  and  prosecutors,  but 
he  is  liable  to  repeated  forfeitures  of  like  penalties  for 
ever}'  marriage  he  has  performed,  since  he  has  conceived 
himself  the  ordained  minister  of  that  people,  which  must  in- 
volve his  friends  in  expense,  or  consign  him  to  a  jail.  Nor 
is  this  all ;  supposing  his  ordination  invalid,  he  is,  by  the 
letter  of  the  law,  liable  to  ignominious  punishment.  Now, 
as  equity  is  said  to  be  that  interference  of  the  supreme 
power,  which  alleviates,  where  the  law,  by  being  too  com- 
prehensive, has  involved  a  case  to  which  it  was  not  perhaps 
meant  to  extend  ;  and  as  he,  and  his  people,  his  coun- 
sel, and  the  world  at  large,  supposed  him  ordained,  as  much 
as  an  Episcopalian,  or  any  other  teacher,  however  different 
the  mode  of  ordination,  he  most  humbly  prays  your  Honors 
lo  indemnify  him  for  any  farther  prosecution,  for  an}'  mar- 
riage he  may  have  solemnized,  under  his  supposed  right ; 
and  by  this  means  rescue  him  from  the  persecuting  power 
of  his  malignant  adversaries,  restore  the  exercise  of  relig- 
ious rites  to  his  oppressed  and   afflicted   people,  establish 


344  TAPE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

in  the  Commonwealth,  in  which  he  has  long  had  his  resi- 
dence, that  peace  which  has  been  broken  b}"  the  malice  of 
his  enemies.  Your  petitioner  would  in  person  have  waited 
on  such  committee  of  your  Honors,  as  ma^^  be  appointed  to 
consider  this  petition,  but  his  well-grounded  fears  that  pros- 
ecutions would  be  multiplied  upon  him,  by  the  zeal  of  his 
religious  adversaries,  has  necessitated  him  to  absent  him- 
self from  the  country  of  his  adoption,  and  his  dear  people, 
until  such  time  as  the  clemenc}^  of  your  Honors  might  be 
obtained  in  his  behalf." 

The  congregation  in  Gloucester  addressed  the  Legislature 
in  a  separate  petition,  and  the  judges,  Sullivan  and  Dawes, 
co-operated  with  Mr.  Russell,  in  persevering  efforts  to  ob- 
tain a  decision.  The  petitious  were  referred  to  a  committee 
of  three  gentlemen,  of  great  respectability,  who  speedilj' 
prepared  and  handed  in  their  report,  which  was  laid  upon 
the  speaker's  table,  whence  it  was  drawn  forth  by  the 
speaker  of  the  House,  James  Warren,  Esq.,  accepted  by  a 
handsome  majority,  and  sent  up  to  the  Senate  for  concur- 
rence. The  report  was  called  up  from  the  president's  table 
by  the  Hon.  Mr.  Dalton,  when,  after  a  debate  of  two  hours, 
it  passed  the  Senate  almost  unanimously. 

Meantime,  the  persecuted,  and  now  nobly  redressed 
promulgator  was  speeding  across  the  great  waters.  His 
passage  over  the  Atlantic  was  uncommonly  boisterous.  The 
European  winter  of  this  3'ear  was  very  severe.  More  navi- 
gation and  lives  were  lost,  in  the  Januarj'  and  February  of 
1788,  upon  the  tremendous  coast  of  Cornwall,  than  had  ever 
before  been  known  in  any  one  season.  At  length,  however, 
the  chalky  cliffs  of  his  native  shore  met  his  gladdened  view, 
and  the  Heaven-protected  vessel  cast  anchor  in  tha  commo- 
dious   harbor   of    Falmouth.     Mr.  Murray   was   a.i  entire 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MTRRAY.  345 

stranger  to  this  part  of  England  ;  but,  by  the  Bostonians 
and  Gloucesterians,  he  bad  been  furnished  with  recommen- 
datory letters. 

Mr.  Murray  was  received  in  Falmouth  with  fraternal 
kindness.  The  Sunday  succeeding  his  arrival  the  pulpit 
of  a  gentleman,  onue  in  connection  with  Mr.  Whitefield, 
was  thrown  open  to  him,  where  he  preached  forenoon  and 
afternoon,  and  continued  delivering  evening  lectures  until 
February  14,  when  he  resumed  his  journe}-  by  land  to  Lon- 
don, proclaiming  glad  tidings  from  the  pulpits,  as  he  passed 
along,  to  which  free  access  was  granted  him.  At  Truro, 
Cheswater,  Tregony,  Mevegesscy,  St.  Austle  Looe,  in  the 
several  churches  at  Plyroouth,  and  Plymouth  Dock,  Exeter, 
Wellington,  etc.,  etc.,  he  delivered  his  God-honoring,  man- 
restoring  message.  Several  clergymen  alwa3-s  attended 
his  lectures,  and  one  gentleman  accompanied  him  even  to 
Exeter.  We  select  a  few  of  the  subjects  upon  which  he 
delighted  to  dwell :  The  lights  ordained  b}-  the  Creator /or 
signs^  Genesis  iii.  15  ;  the  dress  of  the  Jewish  high  priest ; 
the  first  Psalm,  the  eighty-ninth  Psalm,  Zechariah  ix.  9, 1st 
John  iv.,  and  many  passages  drawn  from  Isaiah  and  the 
Epistles  of  the  Apostle  Paul.  His  manner  of  passing  his 
time,  and  the  devout  propensities  of  his  pious  heart,  may 
be  gathered  from  a  short  extract  from  his  journal,  —  a 
journal  replete  with  beauty  and  interest  to  the  christian- 
ized mind,  and  containing  descriptions  and  remarks  worth}' 
the  writer :  — 

"  I  am  delighted  with  walking  through  the  fields  ;  the 
gardens  are  so  very  beautiful,  the  fields  so  very  green,  the 
linnets  and  goldfinches  so  busy  on  the  hedges,  preparing 
their  habitations.  These  songsters  of  the  groves,  which 
are  vocal  on  ever}^  spray,  are  to  me  like  old  and  pleasing 


346         .  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

acquaintance,  not  seen  nor  heard  of  for  a  great  number  of 
years,  while  the  fascinating  choristers,  in  whom  I  have 
taken  so  nmch  delight,  seem,  by  their  cheering  notes,  to 
welcome  me  as  I  pass  along  their  native  fields  and  hedges. 
The  primroses,  and  a  variety  of  other  sweet  flowers,  are 
alread}^  in  full  bloom  ;  in  short,  everything  wears  a  cheerful 
appearance.  How  grateful  ought  I  to  be  to  the  Author  of 
every  good,  who,  in  this  dear  countr}^,  follows  me  with  the 
same  loving-kindness  and  tender  mercy  with  which  he  fol- 
lowed me  in  the  dear  country  I  have  left !  The  numerous 
friends  with  whom  I  occasionally  sojourn  are  as  anxious 
to  c^etain  me  with  them,  and  lament  the  necessity  of  my 
de;  arture,  precisely  as  did  ray  American  friends ;  their 
Jicarts  swell  with  transport,  while  I  simply  declare  the  gos- 
pel of  the  grace  of  God  ;  and  they  reiterate  their  expres- 
cions  of  admiration  of  the  gracious  words  which  God 
enables  me  to  utter,  in  like  manner  as  did  the  good  Glou- 
cesterian  Elder,  Mr.  Warner,  on  my  first  visit  to  that  place. 
We  mingle  our  supplications  and  addresses,  our  thanks- 
givings and  our  praises,  and  our  hearts  burn  within  us, 
while  we  converse  of  the  goodness  of  our  God,  and  the 
gracious  purposes  of  redeeming  love.  Surely  it  would  be 
ill-judged,  if  not  cruel,  in  such  circumstances,  to  dash  the 
cup  of  felicity  from  the  lips  of  these  humble  dependents 
upon  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  because  perhaps 
chey  do  not  see  to  the  end  of  the  divine  purposes.  I  never 
will  preach  anything  but  the  gospel  of  God  our  Saviour, 
anywhere  ;  but  I  will  leave  those  dear  people  to  draw  their 
conclusions,  and,  in  the  interim,  I  will  feed  them  with  the 
jincere  milk  of  the  word,  that  thej^  may  grow  thereby  The 
'^habitants  of  this  place  (Falmouth)  are  a  very  friendly,  re- 
ligious  people.      May  God  grant  them  peace,    and  give 


LIFE   OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  847 

them  abundant  consolation  in  believing !  The  people 
everj' where  hear  with  American  attention.  Clergymen, 
wherever  I  sojourn,  are  generall}^  my  hosts.  Gospel,  un- 
adulterated gospel,  is  pleasant  to  the  believing  soul.  I 
content  raj^self  with  showing  that  man  is  lost  by  sin  ;  that 
the  lr.w  is  the  ir.inist.  ation  of  death  ;  that  the  gospel  is  a 
divine  declaration  of  life,  by  Jesus  Christ,  to  ever}^  creat- 
ure. Yes,  I  will  oontinue  to  preach  the  gospel  freeh'  to 
every  creature.  I  will  endeavor  to  point  out  its  glories, 
and  the  many  advantages  attendant  on  believing  the  divine 
report.  This,  by  the  grace  of  God,  shall  still  be  the  busi- 
ness of  m}^  life.  Many  clerg3'men  attend  me  in  my  prog-" 
iesi5;  no  less  than  seven  have  been  among  my  audience 
at  one  time  ;  and  on  my  descending  from  the  pulpit,  they 
usually  take  my  hand,  and  devouth^  thank  me  for  bearing 
so  good  a  testimony  for  Jesus  Christ  —  for  speaking  so  well 
>..f  the  Redeemer,  a(kling,  that  it  is  a  pity  I  should  do  any- 
thing but  preach.  Numbers  flock  around  me,  and,  in  fact, 
xere  I  an  angel  descended  from  above,  I  could  not  be  fol- 
^oved  with  more  uniform  attention." 

London  is  two  hundred  and  twenty  miles  from  Falmouth. 
The  preacher  did  not  reach  that  metroplis  until  the  six- 
teenth of  March,  and  his  time  was  most  delightfully  passed 
in  the  service  of  God  the  Saviour.  Upon  one  occasion, 
his  entrance  into  one  spacious  place  of  worship  was  hailed 
by  ihe  musical  choir  devoutly  chanting  :  — 

"  Blow  ye  the  trumpet,  blow 
The  gladly  solemn  sound; 
Let  all  the  nations  know, 

To  earth's  remotest  bound, 
The  year  of  Jubilee  is  come; 
Return,  ye  ransomed  sinners,  home." 


348  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

Yet  even  in  this  short  visit  to  his  native  island,  the  pro- 
mulgator went  through  evil  as  well  as  good  report.  "We 
subjoin  a  specimen  of  each.  A  gentleman  of  Falmouth, 
writing  to  his  friend  in  Tregon}^  thus  expresses  himself: — 

"  Mr.  Murra}'  will  shortly  be  in  3'our  town.  We  have  at- 
tended upon  him  here  with  inexpressible  delight.  Three 
such  sermons  as  he  has  delivered,  my  ears  never  before 
heard  ;  such  a  preacher  never  before  appeared  in  this  town. 
I  am  convinced  his  ideas  are  all  his  own.  I  never  heard 
anything  like  them  ;  his  mind  seems  clearl}^  informed,  and 
his  heart  very  much  warmed  by  the  love  of  God."  But 
the  following  advertisement  appeared  in  a  London  paper  : — 

"  Mr.  Murray  is  an  American,  the  most  popular  preacher 
in  the  United  States.  In  the  conclusion  of  one  of  his  ser- 
mons, preached  on  that  continent,  he  endeavored  to  enforce 
with  all  the  powers  of  eloquence,  the  necessit}^  of  establish- 
ing in  those  States  the  same  Ol3^mpic  games,  which  were 
for  many  ages  established  among  the  Grecians."  But 
this  was  not  all ;  it  was  storied  that  he  had  left  America  in 
consequence  of  a  criminal  prosecution. 

Arriving  at  London,  he  was  once  more  enriched  b}^  the 
maternal  benediction.  He  found  his  venerable  parent  in 
the  enjoyment  of  a  fine  green  old  age,  and  again  she  re- 
joiced in  the  presence  of  her  son.  In  London,  and  at 
Harastead,  in  the  meeting-house  once  occupied  b}^  Mr. 
Whitefield,  he  delivered  his  message  of  peace.  Patronized 
in  the  city  of  London  by  an  opulent  famil}^  who  cherished 
him  as  a  son,  he  was  strongl}'^  solicited  once  more  to  take 
\ip  his  abode  in  that  metropolis  ;  but  the  providence  of 
God  had  not  so  decreed,  and,  after  continuing  there  a  short 
time,  he  departed  thence,  and  journeyed  to  Portsmouth,  for 
the  purpose  cf  being  in  readiness  to  commence  his  return 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  349- 

to  America.  In  Portsmouth,  he  was  again  a  solitar}-  stran- 
ger ;  but  he  had  not  been  more  than  four  hours  in  that  cel- 
ebrated and  important  emporium,  ere  he  was  engaged  by  a 
respectable  clergj'man  to  preach  a  lecture,  which  had  been 
previously  announced.  In  Portsmouth  he  tarried  two 
weeks,  preaching  frequently.  On  his  first  lecture,  he  vras 
solicited  b}^  a  Doctor  Miller  to  accompany  him  to  his  habi- 
tation, where  he  abode  until  he  departed  from  that  town. 
The  circle  of  his  acquaintance  soon  became  large,  among 
whom  he  numbered  \evy  respectable  friends.  When  the 
clergymen,  with  whom  Mr.  Murray  associated  during  his 
last  residence  in  England,  became  ascertained  of  his  full 
and  comprehensive  vieics  of  the  magnitude  and  extent  of  the 
redeeming  plan,  although  very  few  adopted  his  ideas,  yet 
they  still  continued  warmly  attached  to  the  preacher  ;  and 
the  letters  thej  addressed  to  him,  after  his  return  to  Amer- 
ica, which  are  still  in  being,  would  fill  a  volume.  A  few 
of  the  preachers' responses  are  contained  in  the  volumes  of 
"  Letters  and  Sketches  of  Sermons." 

Mr.  Murray  proceeded  to  Cowes,  upon  the  Isle  of  TVight,. 
and  from  thence  embarking  for  America,  commenced  his 
TOj'age  with  a  fair  wind,  which  soon  changing,  thet  were 
under  the  necessity  of  dropping  anchor  in  Portland  harbor, 
where  they  were  long  wind-bound.  His  passage  was  un- 
commonly protracted ;  but,  fortunately,  the  passengers 
united  to  give  it  ever}'  charm  of  which  society  is  suscepti- 
ble ;  and,  when  we  add  that  our  late  respectable  President, 
the  Honorable  John  Adams  and  lady  were  of  the  number, 
the  pleasures  of  the  vo^-age  will  be  nothing  doubted. 
Books,  music,  and  conversation  varied  the  tedium  of  the 
passing  weeks  ;  nor  was  the  preacher  debarred  the  exercise 
of  his  sacred  avocation.    Mr.  Adams  requested  he  would 


SdO  life    of  rev.  JOHN  MURRAY. 

oJ3iciate  as  their  teacher,  ever}''  Sunday,  and  accordingly 
the  ship's  compau}-,  and  the  passengers,  were,  upon  this 
hol}'^  da}',  collected  round  him.  His  first  subject  was  the 
third  commandment.  They  united  in  their  addresses  to 
the  throne  of  grace,  and  in  hymning  the  praises  of  their 
God. 

Again  reaching  the  shores  of  this  New  World,  the  voice 
of  exoneration  and  of  freedom  bade  him  welcome ;  and  the 
glad  acclamations  of  joy  resounded  among  his  congratulat- 
ing and  most  affectionate  friends.  A  summons  from  the 
Governor  to  attend  a  select  party  at  his  house  met  him  on 
the  day  of  his  arrival,  and  ever}-  liberal  mind  partook  t!:e 
rational  hilarity  of  the  moment. 

The  Gloucesterians,  determining  no  more  to  hazard  iu- 
vidious  prosecution,  and  its  train  of  evils,  appointed  a  day, 
the  Christmas  of  1788,  on  which  to  renew  the  ordination  of 
their  pastor ;  and,  after  assembling,  and  effectuating  their 
purpose,  that  they  might  bestow  upon  the  solemn  transac- 
tion all  possible  publicity,  they  procured  its  insertion  in 
the  "Centinel"  of  January  3,  1789,  from  which  paper  we 
transcribe  it  verbatim  :  — 

"  Last  Thursday  week,  Mr.  John  Murray  was  ordained 
to  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  Independent  Church  of 
Christ  in  Gloucester.  After  Mr.  Murray  had  prayed,  and 
one  of  the  consjreofation  had  announced  the  intention  of  the 
meeting,  and  presented  him  formally  with  a  call,  Mr. 
Murray  replied :  — 

"  '  Persuaded  of  the  truth  of  the  declaration,  made  by  the 
compilers  of  the  shorter  catechism,  that  God's  works  of 
providence  are  his  most  holy,  wise,  and  powerful,  preserv- 
ing and  governing  all  his  creatures^  and  all  their  actions ; 
and  having  a  full  conviction  that  the  affairs  of  the  church 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  351 

are,  iu  an  especial  manner,  under  his  immediate  direction ; 
and  that  you,  my  Christian  friends  and  brethren,  are  now, 
as  formerl}',  under  the  directing  influence  of  that  divine 
Spirit,  which,  taking  of  the  things  of  Jesus,  and  showing 
ihem  unto  me,  constrained  me  to  become  a  preacher  of  the 
everlasting  gospel,  and  directed  you  to  set  me  apart^  and 
ordain  me  to  be  3'our  minister ;  I  now  again,  with  humble 
gratitude  to  m}-  divine  Master,  and  grateful  affection  for 
3'ou,  m}^  long-tried  and  faithful  Christian  friends  and  breth- 
ren, most  cordially  accept  of  this  call.' 

"  One  of  .the  committee  then  read  the  vote  of  the  church  : 
'  Resolved,  that  we,  the  proprietors  of  the  independent 
meeting-house  in  Gloucester,  the  members  of  th(i  church 
and  congregation  usually  attending  there  for  the  purpose 
of  divine  worship,  do,  b}"  virtue  of  that  power  vested  in  us 
by  the  great  High  Priest  of  our  profession,  the  Bishop  of 
our  souls,  and  the  great  and  onl}"  Head  of  the  church  ;  and 
according  to  the  institutions  of  the  first  churches  in  New  Eng- 
land, and  in  perfect  conformity  to  the  third  article  of  the  dec- 
laration of  rights,  in  this  public  manner,  solemnl}'  elect  i  ud 
ordain^  constitute  and  appoint  Mr.  John  Murray*,  of  ?ald 
Gloucester,  clerk,  to  be  our  settled  minister,  pastor,  and 
teaching  elder ;  to  preach  the  word  of  God,  and  to  incul- 
cate lessons  and  instructions  of  piety,  religion,  and  rd-.rali- 
ty,  on  the  congregation  ;  and  to  do,  perform,  and  discharge 
all  the  duties  and  oflfices,  which  of  right  belong  to  any 
other  minister  of  the  gospel,  or  public  teacher  of  piet}', 
religion,  and  moralit}^ ;  and  it  is  hereb}^  intended,  and  un- 
derstood, that  the  authorit}'  and  rights  hereby  given  to  the 
said  Mr.  John  Murraj^,  to  be  our  settled  ordained  minister, 
and  public  teacher,  are  to  remain  in  full  force,  so  long  as 
he  shall  continue  to  preach  the  word  of  God,  and  dispense 


352  LIFE    OF  REV.   JOHN  MURRAY, 

instructions  of  piety,  religion,  and  morality,  conformable 
to  our  opinions,  and  no  longer.' 

"  The  committee  then  solemnly'  presented  him  the  Bible, 
saj^ng  on  its  presentation,  '  Dear  sir,  we  present  you  these 
sacred  Scriptures  as  a  solemn  seal  of  j'our  ordination  to 
the  ministrj'  of  the  New  Testament,  and  the  sole  director}^ 
of  your  faith  and  practice.'  His  acceptance  was  affecting ; 
as  what  comes  from  the  heart  reaches  the  heart. 

"  '  With  my  full  soul  I  thank  our  merciful  God  for  this 
inestimable  gift.  With  grateful  transport  I  press  it  to  my 
bosom.  I  receive  it  as  the  copy  of  m^^  Father's  Will, 
as  the  deed  of  an  incorruptible  inheritance  ;  as  the  unerr- 
ing guide  to  my  feet,  and  lantern  to  my  paths.  Dear, 
precious  treasure,  thou  hast  been  my  constant  support  in 
ever}^  tr^dng  hour,  and  a  never-failing  source  of  true  con- 
solation. I  thank  3^ou,  most  sincerely  do  I  thank  3'ou,  for 
this  confirming  seal,  this  sure  directory  ;  and  I  pra^^  that 
the  Spirit  which  dictated  these  sacred  pages,  may  enable  me 
to  make  the  best  use  thereof."  A  sermon  by  Mr.  Murray, 
from  Luke  v.  2,  succeeded,  '  The  harvest  is  great,  but  the 
laborers  are  few,'  etc.  etc. 

''  The  solemnit}^,  attention,  and  Christian  demeanor  that 
attended  the  whole  transaction  of  the  ordination,  and  every 
other  occurrence  of  the  day,  gave  universal  satisfaction  to 
a  numerous  audience." 

Da3's  of  tranquillity  now  succeeded  ;  weeks,  months,  nay, 
years,  rolled  on,  and  harmon}",  unbroken  harmony,  presided. 
Religion  shed  her  balm}^  influence,  her  mind-irradiating, 
passion-subduing  consolations  ;  and  we  were  ready  to  say, 
stability  dwelleth  even  in  our  times.  But,  alas  !  we  too 
soon  experienced  that  "  bliss,  sublunary  bliss^"  was  not  the 
durable  possession  of  mortality. 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  353 

It  was  in  this  interval  of  most  pleasant  memor}',  that  Mr. 
Murray,  in  the  summer  of  the  year  1790,  then  on  a  visit  to 
his  Pennsylvania,*  Jersey,  and  New  York  connections,  was 


*  In  a  letter  to  her  parents  written  by  Mrs.  Murray  from  Philadelphia,  June  19, 
1790,  she  speaks  of  tlie  position  of  Universalism  in  that  city :  "  The  sentiments 
of  the  Universalists  are  growing  every  day  more  respectable  in  this  city.  The 
fixmily  of  Dr.  Franklin  are  among  the  foremost  of  our  favorers.  Mrs.  Bache, 
the  doctor's  daugliter,  says  it  was  her  father's  opinion,  that  no  system  in  the 
Christian  world  was  so  effectually  calculated  to  promote  the  interests  of  society, 
as  that  doctrine  which  shows  a  God  reconciling  a  lapsed  world  unto  himself. 
The  Philadelphiaus  are  exceedingly  anxious  to  fix  3Ir.  Murray  among  them. 
At  first  a  genteel  house,  rent  free  for  life,  with  a  salary  of  £200  a  year,  was  pro- 
posed to  him.  They  now  propose  £250;  and  finally  they  add,  if  he  will  pledge 
his  word  to  return  to  them  as  soon  as  he  can  adjust  his  affairs  at  the  eastward, 
they  will  ensure  him,  exclusive  of  his  house-rent,  a  yearly  income  of  £400  [or 
$1,066.67].  The  church  belonging  to  the  Universalists  in  this  metropolis,  not 
being  spacious  enough  to  contain  the  number  who  flock  to  hear  him,  application 
was  made  to  the  Itev.  Dr.  Smitli,  Provost,  or  President  of  the  college  or  academy, 
for  the  use  of  a  building  belonging  to  it,  and  known  by  the  name  of  the  College 
Hall.  A  special  meeting  of  the  trustees  was,  upon  this  occasion,  called,  and 
unanimous  consent  obtained.  Dr.  Smith  sent  a  message,  requesting  Mr.  Mur- 
ray's attc::dance  at  his  house.  Mr.  M ,  you  will  not  doubt,  obeyed  the  sum- 
mons, when  he  was  escorted  to  the  Hall  by  the  President  and  Professors,  who 
waited  upon  him  to  the  pulpit  stairs,  and  then  took  their  seats  in  the  assembly. 

Mr.  j>I ,  after  delivering  a  discourse,  did  not  immediately  appoint  a  future 

lecture.  The  President  addressed  him :  <  Sir,  I  expected  you  would  have  pub- 
lished other  opportunities ;  for  you  must  know,  that  the  use  of  the  Hall  is  yours, 
when,  and  as  frequently,  as  you  please.'  And  accordingly  in  the  course  of  the 
week,  large  and  respectable  audiences  are  collected  there.  Besides  the  Presi- 
dent, Messrs.  Magaw,  Rogers,  Bond,  Macdual,  and  Andrews,  regularly  attend, 

and  Mr.  M receives  from  them  the  utmost  politeness On  Sunday 

Mr.  M is  at  the  Lodge, the  cLx^irch  of  the  Universalists  [situated  on  Second 

Street,  where  the  Pennsylvania  Bank  now  stands] .  The  Rev.  Dr.  Blair  is  a  con- 
firmed convert  to  Universalism.  Relly  is  his  oracle ;  though  I  was  informed  by 
Dr.  Rush,  that  he  has  in  many  respects  gone  beyond,  reconciling  difficulties 
which  Relly  h?.d  not  attempted.  Dr.  Hush  is  a  man  of  sense  and  letters,  and  is 
well  known  in  the  medical  and  literary  world.  I  am  happy  that  I  can  name  Dr. 
Rush  as  an  open,  arowed  professor  of,  and  ornament  to,  the  religion  of  Jesus. 
j*ddressing  3Ir.  31 this  morning,  with  much  candor  he  thus  expressed  him- 
self: ' "Why,  my  dear  sir,  you  have  stood  much  alone;  how  have  you  buffeted 
the  storm  ?  What  a  torrent  of  prejudice,  tradition,  malevolence,  and  calumny 
you  have  had  to  encounter  I  Twenty  years  ago  I  heard  your  name.  Tou  were 
23 


354  LIFE    OF  EEV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

"by  the  Universalists  convened  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia, 
associated  with  Mr.  William  Eugene  Imley,  to  present  an 
address  to  the  immortal  Washington,  then  President  of 
the  United  States. 

***  [I  suppose  this  to  have  been  the  time  at  which  Mr. 
Murra^^  visited  the  grave  of  his  *'  earliest  American  friends- 
Thomas  Potter.  His  reflections  at  that  event  are  recorded 
in  his  "  Letters  and  Sketches,"  vol.  i.  pp.  334-341.  The 
circumstance  deserves  a  place  in  his  "  Life  ;  "  and  would, 
in  all  probability,  have  been  introduced  b}^  himself,  had  he 
been  permitted  to  have  filled  up  the  narrative  to  the  time 
of  his  sickness.  He  carried  it  forward  only  to  the  close  of 
the  year  1774,  — the  remainder  was  written  by  his  widow. 
We  shall  take  the  libert}'  to  introduce  the  passages  here. 

"  My  ride  to  this  place  has  been  very  disagreeable,  the 
heat  so  intense,  and  the  sand  so  deep,  and  no  hospitable 

friend    P in    view.      Dear,  honored   friend,  the   first 

patron  with  which  I  was  blessed  in  this  New  World,  how 
indulgent  wert  thou  to  me  !  —  with  how  much  benevolence 
didst  thou  cherish  me,  when  a  stranger  in  thy  mansion,  and 
how  didst  thou  labor  for  my  advancement ! 

"  Many  aged  persons,  who  were  in  the  habit  of  attend- 
ing my  labors,  have  visited  me.  They  express  their  honest 
sensibility  in  a  variety  of  wa3^s  ;  but  all  are  overjoyed  to 
see  me.  They  are  solicitous  to  pour  into  my  ear  the  story 
of  their  accumulated  sufierings.  They  imagine  they  shall 
reap   pleasure  from  commiseration ;  yet   what,   alas !   can 

preaching  in  Bachelor's  Hall.  No  consideration  would  have  induced  me  to  have 
come  within  a  mile  of  the  place;  and  had  I  met  you  in  the  street,  I  should  not 
have  conceived  it  could  have  been  you,  except  I  had  found  jou  with  the  cloven 
foot  and  with  horns.  But  now  how  peaceful  to  myself  is  the  revolution !  The  Bi- 
ble is  a  consistent  book,  and  everything  that  is  excellent  it  contains.' "  — G.L.D 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY,  355 

helpless  pity  do?     There  is,  however,   much   pleasure   in 
communicating  our  sorrows  to  a  sympathizing  friend. 

"  I  am  now  in  the  house  that  once  belonged  to  the  ven- 
erable P ,  to  m}'  friend  P .     I  am  not,  however,  an 

occupant  of  the  same  apartment  which  he  fitted  up  for  my 
use,  and  directed  me  to  consider  as  m}^  own.  That  apart-, 
ment,  and  the  greater  part  of  the  house,  is  devoted  to 
those  w^ho  loved  not  him,  and  knew  not  me.  Alas  !  what 
is  this  world?  How  often  we  thus  exclaim,  thus  ask, 
because  we  imagine  it  is  not  what  it  should  be.  Were  it 
under  our  direction  it  would  be  better  managed  ;  but  it  is 
not,  nor  never  will  be.  One  thing  is  certain,  on  life  there 
is  little  or  no  dependence.  This  dear  man,  this  American 
•  MAN  OF  ROSS,'  was  suddenly  snatched  from  the  scenes  of 
time,  deprived  instantly  of  reason,  and  in  a  few  hours  of 
life.  '  His  soul  proud  science  never  taught  to  stray.'  But 
he  was  a  gem  of  the  first  qualil-y,  and  notwithstanding  the 
crust,  which  from  his  birth  enfolded  him,  yet  by  the  rubs  he 
suffered  from  the  pebbles  among  which  he  was  placed,  this 
crust  was  so  far  broken  as  to  emit,  upon  almost  every 
occasion,  the  native  splendor  of  his  intellect.  Had  this 
man  in  early  life  received  the  culture  of  nature's  hand- 
maid, what  a  luminous  figure  he  would  have  made  !  But 
the  God  of  nature  had  stamped  upon  his  soul  the  image  of 
himself,  unbounded  benevolence. 

"  I  reached  this  place  yesterday  evening ;  the  sun  was 
just  setting,  and  as  I  passed  through  the  well-known  fields, 
and  saw  them  rich  and  flourishing  in  all  the  pride  of  nature, 
I  felt  an  irrational  kind  of  anger  glow  at  my  heart,  that 
those  fields  should  look  so  exceeding  gay,  when  their 
master  had  taken  an  everlasting  leave  of  every  terrestrial 
«cene.     The  depression   upon  m}^  spirits,  as  I  reached  the 


356  LIFE    OF  REV.    JCjiJS    MORRA.  . 

house,  was  indescribable.  I  beheld  one  ai.d  anoi:ner,  '^'iio?- 
faces  I  had  never  before  seen.  An  ugly  mastiC  growkd  a* 
me  as  I  passed ;  and  this  is  the  first  time,  said  T,  that  1 
was  ever  growled  at,  in  this  place,  bj^  any  of  thy  kind  ; 
but  he  was  soon  silenced  by  a  lad  who  was  brought  up  by 
my  friend.  '  Lord  bless  me  !  —  Is  not  this  Mr.  Murray  ? ' 
— '  Why,  Matt,  do  you  remember  me  ? '  —  '  Remember  yor 
sir?  Remember  Mr.  Murraj^?  Yes,  indeed,  sir.'  —  'This 
dog  does  not.  Matt  I '  —  '  But  he  would  if  he  had  lived  in 
master's  time;  but  he  is  a  stranger.'  —  'They  are  all 
strangers,  Matt,  are  the}^  not?'  —  'Indeed  the}^  are  all, 
but  my  mistress  and  myself.' — 'And  where  is  3'our  mis- 
tress, Matt?  '  —  'I  will  call  her,  sir.'  —  '  No,  m}^  goo<i  lad, 
not  yet.     What  have  you  for  m}^  horse  ? '  —  '  Nothing  but 

grass.'  —  '  Nothing  at  Mr.  P 's  but  grass  ? '  —  '  Ah  !  sir, 

it  is  not  now  the  house  of  Mr.  P .'  —  '  True,  true,  true. 

Leave  me,  my  good  lad,  leave  me.' 

"  I  walked  round  the  house,  entered  every  avenue,  looked 
at  m}^  garden  ;  it  was  made  for  me.  The  trees,  the  fi^wer- 
ing  shrubs,  have  run  wild,  and  the  whole  surface  of  the 
spot  is  covered  with  weeds.  This  pleased  me ;  just  so  I 
would  have  it. 

"  This  is  the  tree  planted  b}^  my  own  hand.  IIow 
flourishing !  But  where  \^  the  other,  planted  directly 
opposite  at  the  same  moment,  by  uy  friend  ?  Alas  !  like  it« 
planter,  dead !  On  this  very  spot  I  first  saw  the  philan- 
thropist. '  Can  you  assist  me,  sir  ? ' — '  Yes,  sir.' — '  On  what 
terms ? '  —  'I  receive  no  payment,  sir.  He  who  gave  to  me 
did  not  charge  me  anything  ;  you  are  welcome  at  the  price.' 
Here  our  acquaintance  commenced  ;  but  it  is  ended,  at 
least  in  the  present  state.  I  shall  see  him  no  more  on 
this  side  eternity.     On  this  seat  we  sat,  and  there  tne  tear 


LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  357 

of  transport  rolled  down  bis  furrowed  cheek  when  we  con- 
versed upon  that  redemption  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus. 
Under  that  oak  we  have  frequently  sat,  contemplating  the 
shadow  from  the  heat,  the  hiding-place  from  the  storm. 
At  yonder  gate  he  bid  me  farewell,  and  wiped  his  venerable 
eye.  At  ^^onder  gate  I  turned,  he  waved  his  hand,  —  'God 
Almighty  bless  j^ou  ;  you  will  come  again.  Forget  not 
3'our  friends,  your  ancient  friend.'  — '  If  I  do,'  said  m}' 
heart,  '  may  my  right  hand  forget  its  cunning.'  But  I 
forgot  thee,  good  old  man,  too  long  I  forgot  thee  !  And 
now  that  I  am  at  last  returned,  thou  art  not  here  to  bid 
me,  in  the  politest,  that  is,  in  the  sincerest  manner, 
welcome. 

"  Mrs.  P approached.     She  lifted  up  her  hands  and 

eyes  in  speechless  anguish,  seated  herself,  changed  color  — 
no  mattei-  —  the  worst  is  past.  I  have  visited  the  meeting- 
house reared  by  his  hand  for  the  worship  of  his  God.  It 
is  embosomed  in  a  grove  of  stately  oaks,  all  trimmed,  and 
in  beautiful  order.  Under  this  shade  reposeth  the  man  by 
whom  the  house  was  raised,  by  whom  the  grove  was  planted. 
I  beheld  his  grave.  It  was  not  a  marble,  a  hai'd  marble^ 
that  informed  me  whose  dust  lay  there  ;  it  was  a  feeling 
mechanic,  who,  having  experienced  much  kindness  from  the 
deceased,  wept  when  he  told  me  that  spot  contained  the 
dead.  I  carefully  examined  the  grave,  to  see  if  any  weeds 
grew  there.  No,  no,  they  had  no  business  there.  I  could 
not  pluck  a  noxious  nettle  from  his  grave.  There  grew 
upon  it  a  few  wild  flowers,  emblematic  of  the  mind  that 
once  inhabited  this  insensate  clay.  At  the  foot  of  the 
grave  stands  the  most  majestic  and  flourishing  of  all  the 
oaks  which  surround  the  grave.  It  was  once  on  the  point 
of  falling  a  sacrifice  to  the  axe-man,  but  my  friend  solicited 


358  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

^ov  its  continuance,  pronouncing  that  it  would  flourish  when 
'.e  should  sleep  beside  it.  And  having  thus  rescued  it, 
added  m}^  informant,  he  has  since  paid  it  particular  atten- 
tion, which  is  the  reason  of  its  so  far  surpassing  the  other 
trees. 

"Peace,  peace  to  th}^  spirit,  thou  friendl}^,  feeling,  faith- 
ful man  !  Thy  dust  is  laid  up  to  rest,  near  the  house  thou 
didst  build  for  God,  but  thy  spirit  rests  vjitli  God  in  the 
house  built  by  him  for  tJiee,  and  though  our  dust  ma}'  not 
meet  again,  our  spirits  will  meet  and  rejoice  together  in 
those  regions  of  blessedness,  where  pain  can  find  no  en- 
trance, where  death  can  no  more  usurp  dominion,  where  no 
tear  of  sorrow  shall  ever  dim  the  jo^^-brightened  e3'e,  for  we 
shall  part  no  more  forever.  I  said  there  was  no  nettle  on 
this  grave.  One  thing,  however,  was  very  remarkable.  A 
gourd  had  crept  along  until  it  came  to,  and  spread  over,  his 
^rave,  mixing  its  foliasje  with  the  sweet-scented  flowers 
that  grew  thereon. 

"  Never  was  place  better  calculated  for  melanchoh^  mus- 
ing than  this  spot,  so  thick  the  grove  around.  The  little 
neat  ejraveyard  at  the  end,  the  shutters  of  the  house  for 
public  worship  all  closed  up,  the  lonely  situation  inviting 
the  birds,  —  their  music  serves  to  mellow  the  scene  ;  all,  all, 
is  most  truly  for  solemn  meditation  fit. 

"  By  the  following  article  in  the  will  of  my  deceased 
fi lend,  this  house  of  worship  becomes  my  propertj^ :  — 

•' '  I'he  house  built  by  me  for  the  worship  of  God,  it  is  my 
will  that  God  be  worshipped  in  it  still,  and  for  this  purpose 
I  will  that  my  ever  dear  friend,  Mr.  John  Murray,  preacher 
f  '.he  gospel  shall  possess  it,  having  the  sole  direction, 
diocosai,  and  management  of  said  house,  and  one  aero  of 
land  'ipon  which  it  stands,  and   b}'  which  it  is  surrounded.* 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  359 

'•  In  this  house  of  worship  I  have  once  more  preached. 
1\  is  full  two  years  since  divine  service  has  been  performed 
there.  I  selected  for  my  subject,  1  Corinthians  vi.  20  : 
'  For  ye  are  bought  with  a  price  :  therefore  glorify  God  in 
your  bod}^,  and  in  3'our  spirit,  which  are  God's.' " 

At  tlie  close  of  this  sermon  Mr.  Murray  adverted  in  the 
following  terms  to  the  character  of  Mr.  Potter  :  — 

"  Through  yonder  open  casement,  I  behold  the  grave  of 
a  man,  the  recollection  of  whom  swells  m}'  heart  with  grati- 
tude, and  fills  my  e3^es  with  tears.  There  sleeps  the  sacred 
dust  of  him  who  well  understood  the  advantages  resulting 
from  the  public  worship  of  the  true  God.  There  rests  the 
ashes  of  him  who  glorified  God  in  his  body,  and  in  his 
spirit,  which  he  well  knew  were  the  Lord's.  He  believed 
he  was  bought  with  a  price,  and  therefore  he  declared  that 
all  he  was,  and  had,  were  righteouslj-  due  to  the  God  who 
had  created,  and  purchased  him  with  a  price  all  price  be- 
3'ond.  There  rests  the  precious  dust  of  the  friend  of 
strangers,  whose  hospitable  doors  were  ever  open  to  the 
destitute,  and  him  who  had  none  to  relieve  his  sufferings.  I 
myself  was  once  thrown  on  these  shores,  a  desolate  stran- 
ger. This  Christian  man  brought  me  to  his  habitation. 
'  God,'  said  he,  '  hath  blessed  me  ;  he  has  given  me  more  than 
a  competency,  and  he  has  given  me  a  heart  to  devote  my- 
self, and  all  that  I  have,  to  him.  I  have  built  a  place  for 
his  name  and  worship.  I  would,'  continued  the  faithful  man, 
'  erjct  this  temple  myself,  with  what  God  had  given  me.  My 
neighbors  would  have  lent  their  aid  ;  but  I  refused  assist- 
ance from  an}'  one.  I  would  myself  build  the  house,  that 
God  might  be  worshipped  without  contention,  without  in- 
*^^erruption  ;  that  he  might  be  worshipped  by  all  whom  ho 
SiiOuld  vouchsafe  to  send.' 


360  LIFE    OF  REV.  JOHN  MURRAY. 

"  This  elegant  house,  my  friends,  the  first  friends  who 
hailed  m}^  arrival  in  this  countr}-,  this  elegant  house,  with 
its  adjoining  grove,  is  yours.  The  faithful  founder  be- 
queathed it  to  me,  that  none  of  3'ou  may  be  deprived  of  it. 
His  dust  reposes  close  to  this  monument  of  his  piety  ;  he 
showed  you  b}^  his  life  what  it  was  to  glorifj^  God  in  bod\' 
and  spirit ;  and  he  has  left  3'ou  this  house  that  j^ou  ma}" 
assemble  here  together,  listen  to  the  voice,  and  unite  to 
chant  the  praises  of  the  God  who  created,  who  has  bought 
3^ou  with  a  price,  and  who  will  preserve  j'ou 

"  Dear,  faithful  man  !  when  last  I  stood  in  this  place,  he 
was  present  among  the  assembly"  of  the  people.  I  marked 
his  glistening  eye  ;  it  always  glistened  at  the  emphatic 
name  of  Jesus.  Even  now  I  behold  in  imagination  his  ven- 
erable countenance  ;  benignity  is  seated  on  his  brow ;  his 
mind  is  apparentl}^  open  and  confiding  ;  tranquillity  reposeth 
upon  his  features,  and  the  expression  of  each  var3'ing  emo- 
tion evinceth  that  faith  which  is  the  parent  of  enduring 
peace,  of  that  peace  which  passeth  understanding. 

"  Let  us,  my  friends,  imitate  his  philanthropj',  his  piet}", 
his  charity.  I  may  never  again  meet  3'ou,  until  we  unite  to 
swell  the  loud  hallelujahs  before  the  throne  of  God.  But 
to  hear  of  3'our  faith,  of  3"0ur  perseverance,  of  3'our  brother- 
I3'  love,  of  your  works  of  charit3',  will  heighten  ray  enjo3"- 
ments,  and  soothe  m3"  sorrows,  even  to  the  verge  of  m3^ 
mortal  pilgrimage.  Accept  my  pra3'ers  in  3'our  behalf, 
and  let  us  unite  to  supplicate  our  common  God  and  Father 
for  the  mighty  blessing  of  his  protection."  T.  W.] 

And  now  a  large  number  of  Mr.  Murra3''s  first  friends  in 
Gloucester  were  numbered  with  the  dead.  He  had  liimself 
again  become  the  head  of  a  family.     The  limes  were  op- 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  361 

pressive,  and  be  considered  it  his  dut}^  to  provide  for  those 
of  whom  he  had  taken  charge.  The  Bostonians  were  solicit- 
ous to  hail  the  preacher  as  their  settled  pastor ;  and  it  was 
certain  his  usefulness  would,  in  the  metropolis,  be  more  ex- 
tensive. A  partial  separation  from  the  Gloucesterians  was, 
b}"  mutual  consent,  effectuated.  It  was,  however,  stipulated, 
that  Mr.  Murra}'  should  occasionally  visit  them,  and  that 
they  should  be  allowed  to  command  his  presence,  upon 
ever}"  distressing  or  important  exigence  ;  and  the  distance 
being  no  more  than  an  easy  ride  of  a  few  hours,  the  adjust- 
ment was  accomplished  without  much  difficult^".  Yet  did 
the  preacher  continue  dissatisfied,  until  the  establishment 
of  his  successor,  in  the  midst  of  his  long-loved  and  early 
Mends. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Thomas  Jones,  a  native  of  Wales,  whom 
he  had  induced,  by  his  representations,  to  unite  with  him 
in  his  American  mission,  is  a  gentleman  of  great  respecta- 
bility, of  the  purest  morals,  and  high  in  the  ranks  of  integ- 
rity. Mr.  Jones  was  educated  at  the  college  established 
by  the  Countess  of  Huntington  ;  in  which  connection  he 
continued  until  his  attachment  to  the  doctrines  of  the  gos- 
pel, in  their  most  unlimited  import,  became  the  signal  for 
bis  exclusion.  The  installation  of  Mr.  Jones,  in  Glouces- 
ter, gladdened  the  heart  of  the  philanthropic  preacher,  and 
his  satisfaction  was  complete.  The  Gloucesterians  love 
and  respect  their  pastor,  and  their  unanimity  is  unbroken. 
They  have  erected  a  new  and  elegant  house  of  worship. 
In  Salem  also,  and  in  Portsmouth  and  Charlestown,  in  New 
York  and  Philadelphia,  commodious  buildings  are  reared 
to  the  honor  of  God  our  Saviour. 

On  Wednesday,  23d  of  October,  1793,  the  installation  of 
Mr.  Murray  took  place  in  the   Universal   meeting-house  u- 


362  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MUBRAi:. 

Boston  ;  the  presiding  deacon  (Oliver  W.  Lane)  addressed 
the  church  and  congregation  :  — 

"  Brethren,  it  having  pleased  the  Father  of  mercies  to 
unite  in  bonds  of  Christian  love  and  affection  the  hearts  of 
the  people  usually  worshipping  in  this  place,  in  the  choice 
of  Mr.  John  Murray  for  their  pastor  and  teacher  ;  we  have 
accordingly  assembled  together  at  this  time  and  place,  for 
the  solemn  purpose  of  ratifying  here  below  what  we  hun:- 
bl}^  trust  is  already  recorded  in  heaven.  It  is  the  duty  of 
all  men,  at  all  times,  and  in  all  places,  humbly  to  implore^ 
the  direction  of  the  great  Head  of  the  church,  in  all  their 
lawful  undertakings."  (Then  followed  an  appropriate  prayer 
by  Mr.  Murray.)  After  which,  the  deacon  demanded  of 
the  church  and  congregation,  as  they  had  heretofore  ex- 
pressed their  desire  that  Mr.  Murray  should  become  their 
pastor  and  teacher,  if,  at  this  time  they  continued  of  that 
mind,  they  would  publicly  confirm  it,  b}^  vote — wJiich  was 
unanimous.  He  then  requested  Mr.  Murray's  answer, 
which  being  given  in  the  affirmative,  he  concluded  his  ad- 
dress :  "  I,  therefore,  in  the  name  and  behalf  of  this  church 
and  congregation,  —  supported  by  the  constituti  n  of  this 
Commonwealth^  —  declare  you,  John  Murray,  tc  ]  cthe  pas- 
tor and  teacher  of  this  First  Universal  Church  in  Boston  ; 
and  in  their  name  I  present  unto  3'ou  the  Sacred  Volume, 
as  the  rule  of  your  faith  and  practice,  and  as  containing  a 
perfect  and  complete  revelation  of  the  perfections  and  will 
of  God  ;  and  I  furthermore  declare  unto  3-ou,  tK2,t  so  long 
as  you  continue  to  preach  the  gospel  as  delineated  I_  these 
sacred  pages,  which  is  glad  tidings  of  great  joy  to  every 
creature,  as  the  purchase  of  the  blood  of  l_;manuel,  so 
long  you  shall  be  considered  as  our  pastor,  and  no  longer. 
And  now,  dearly  beloved  sir,    '  I  charge  thee,  therefore^ 


LIFE    Om  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  363 

hefore  God  and  the  Lcrd  Jesus  Christ,  who  shall  judge  the 
quick  and  the  dead  at  his  appearing,  and  his  kingdom,  to 
preach  the  word,  be  instant  in  season,  out  of  season  ;  re- 
prove, rebuke,  exhort,  with  all  longsufferiug,  and  doctrine. 
In  all  things  showing  thyself  a  pattern  of  good  works  ;  in 
doctrine  showing  uncorruptness,  gravity,  sincerity,  sound 
speech  that  cannot  be  condemned  ;  that  he  that  is  of  the  con- 
trary part  ma}'  be  ashamed,  having  no  evil  thing  to  say  of 
you.  A  workman  that  needeth  not  to  be  ashamed,  rightly 
dividing  the  word  of  truth.'  And  now,  sir,  commending 
you  with  the  church  and  congregation,  over  which  the  Holy 
Ghost  hath  made  you  overseer  to  the  care  and  protection 
of  Him  '  that  loved  us  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his 
own  blood,'  earnestly  beseeching  Him  to  build  us  all  up 
in  unity  of  the  one  Spirit  and  in  the  bond  of  peace,  —  now 
unto  Him  who  is  abundantly  able  to  perform  all  these  things 
for  us,  and  to  present  us  all  faultless  before  the  throne  of 
an  Infinite  Majest}',  be  all  honor,  glory,  dominion,  and 
power,  throughout  the  ages  of  time,  and  a  wasteless  eter- 
nity.    Amen." 

Mr.  Murray's  reply  was  animated  and  replete  with  aflfec- 
tion ;  after  which,  a  hymn  was  performed  by  the  choir  of 
singers,  accompanied  by  the  organ.  Next,  an  excellent 
discourse  by  Mr.  Murray,  from  1  Cor.  ix.  16  :  "  For  though 
I  preach  the  gc  spel,  I  have  nothing  to  glorj^  of ;  for  necessity 
is  laid  up^n  me  ;  yea,  woe  is  unto  me  if  I  preach  not  the 
gospel."  A  collection  for  the  distressed  inhabitants  of 
Philadelphia  succv^eded  the  sermon,  and  an  anthem  suited 
to  the  sclciimities  of  the  occasion  was  most  admirably 
chanted.  T'  o  whole  was  conducted  with  strict  decorum, 
to  the  satisf'^,ctir>n  of  a  ver}^  numerous,  respectable,  and  at- 
tentive audience. 


364  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  ^lURRAY. 

Perhaps  no  congregation  were  ever  more  unanimous,  ana 
more  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  pastor  of  their  election, 
than  were  the  people  worshipping  in  the  church  in  Bennet 
Street ;  and  perhaps  no  minister  was  ever  more  unfeignedl}' 
attached  to  the  people  of  his  charge  than  was  the  long- 
wandering  preacher.  Both  the  minister  and  congregation 
might  truly  be  said  to  worship  the  Most  High  in  the  beauty 
of  holiness.  The  ardinance  of  the  Lord's  Supper  was  ad- 
ministered agreeabl}^  to  their  ideas  of  its  genuine  import. 
Parents  brought  their  children  into  the  great  congregation, 
standing  in  the  broad  aisle,  in  the  presence  of  the  worship- 
pers of  God.  The  father  received  the  babe  from  the  hands 
of  the  mother,  and  presented  it  to  the  servant  of  God  ;  who, 
deriving  his  authority  for  this  practice  from  the  example 
of  his  Redeemer,  who  says,  '•  Suffer  little  children  to  come 
unto  me,"  etc.,  etc.,  pronounced  aloud  the  name  of  the  child, 
and  received  it  as  a  member  of  the  mystical  bod}^  of  him 
who  is  the  second  Adam,  the  Redeemer  of  men.  How  often 
has  his  paternal  heart  throbbed  with  rapture,  as  he  has 
most  devonth'  repeated,  "  We  dedicate  thee  to  Him,  to 
whom  thou  properl}'  belongest,  to  be  baptized  with  his  own 
baptism,  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of 
the  Holy  Ghost ;  and  we  pronounce  upon  thee  that  blessing 
which  he  commanded  his  ministers,  Moses,  Aaron,  and  his 
sons,  to  pronounce  upon  his  people,  saying, '  The  Lord  bless 
thee  and  keep  thee  ;  the  Lord  make  his  face  to  shine  upon 
thee,  and  be  gracious  unto  thee  ;  the  Lord  lift  up  his  coun- 
tenance upon  thee,  and  give  thee  peace.'  "  * 


*  Mr.  Murray  rejected  the  practice  of  infant  sprinkling.  To  him  is  to  le  attrib- 
uted the  ceremony  of  dedication  which  has  obtained  so  generally  in  the  U  j.ivf  . 
salist  church.  His  sentiments  on  this  subject  will  be  found  scattered  througj  "iS 
*'  Letters  and  Sketches."    The  following  is  a  slight  conversation  coczerr.ing 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN   MURRAY.  3G5 

The  preacher,  however,  never  surrendered  the  persua- 
sion that  he  was  sent  out  to  preach  the  gospel,  and  his 
visits  to  his  far-distant  friends  were  frequent!}^  repeated  ; 

ordinances,  which  passed  between  Mr.  Murray  and  Rev.  Elhanan  Winchester, 
shortly  after  their  first  interview :  — 

*'  I  have  had  some  conversation  with  Mr.  W.  on  the  subject  of  ordinances. 

'*  W.  You  do  not  use  water  baptism,  I  think,  Mr.  M. 

"  M.  No,  sir ;  we  listen  to  the  Baptist,  and  we  hear  him  say,  '  I  indeed  baptize 
you  with  water  unto  repentance,  but  he  who  cometh  after  me  is  mightier  than  1 ; 
he  shall  baptize  you  with  the  Holy  Ghost  and  with  tire.'  We  know  that  Johi: 
the  Baptist  pointed  in  this  passage  to  the  Redeemer,  and  we  prefer  his  baptism  ta 
that  of  his  harbinger ;  nor  can  we  advocate  a  plurality  of  baptisms,  when  wt 
hear  the  apostle  say,  there  is  hut  one  Lord,  and  one  baptism. 

*'  W.  And  the  Lord's  Supper,  —  you  lay  that  aside  also. 

"  M.  No,  sir;  we  esteem  this  as  a  divine  privilege;  which,  while  life  is  'ft, 
we  shall  religiously  maintain,  and  that  too  in  the  way  our  Lord  directed  his  ais- 
Ciples  to  use  it.  '  As  oft  as  ye  eat  this  bread  and  drink  this  cup,  do  it  in  remem- 
brance of  me,'  In  the  symbolic  elements  we  behold  the  gathering  together  tbo 
many  in  one. 

"  W.  Ay,  ay,  I  have  seen  all  that  can  be  said  on  that  subject  in  a  piece  r/ritten 
by  a  lady.    Had  you  no  hand  in  that  performance  ? 

"  M.  No,  sir,  not  a  single  letter,  not  a  point,  either  directly  or  indirectly,  ever 
was  furnished  by  me. 

"  W.  I  never  doubted  its  being  the  performance  of  a  lad/: 

"  M.  Why,  sir  ? 

"  TT.  Why,  sir,  I  know  no  man  who  could  have  written  so  wJl  I  =Ter  -.8 
better  pleased  with  the  manner  of  a  piece  in  my  life ;  there  is  that  s^  jiclitly ,  easy, 
flowery  flow  of  expression  that  is  more  characteristic  of  a  female  p-^*'  than  th?t 
of  a  male. 

"  3/,  Is  it  not  amazing  that  it  has  not  been  attacked  ? 

"  W.  Not  at  all,  sir;  what  a  despicable  wretch  must  he  be,  who,  acw^yir  'ic 
may  be  opposed  to  the  sentiment,  would  dare  to  draw  his  ic:p  against  th».  author 
of  that  preface,  in  which  she  declares  her  resolution  of  retir.up'into  her  closet  in 
the  event  of  an  attack,  and  answering  her  opponent  with  silence.  I  ncvjr  r  ,ad 
a  more  charming  composition  than  that  preface  in  my  life.  I  should  be  excced- 
iug  glad  to  see  the  author. 

'*  J/.  I  assure  you,  sir  she  has  a  strong  predilection  in  your  favor;  1  :  to 
speak  plainly,  she  is  almost  as  warm  an  advocate  for  the  devil  as  yonrsv^L*. 

"  ir.  I  like  her  the  better  for  it. 

"  ^^.  Why,  really,  it  is  much  to  her  honor,  for  the  enemy  has  been  a  malignr.nt 
enemy  to  her,  and  done  her  much  injury;  and  yet,  in  the  same  moment  tliat  she 
is  as  much  unlike  him  as  possible,  she  cannot  near  of  his  being  cursoa  thrcuj;b 


366  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MUTIRAT. 

jzt  these  visits  were  always  made  by  the  assenting  voice 
jf  the  societ}',  and  he  regarded  every  individual  congre- 
gated under  his  directing  auspices,  as  in  an  essential   and 


the  wa^iteless  ages  of  eternity,  but,  like  Captain  Shandy,  she  hesitates  not  to 
commiserate  bis  destiny. 

"  W.  Would  I  could  see  her  !  But  I  have  no  business  to  contemplate  anything 
beneath  the  skies.  I  am  like  a  prisoner  in  momentary  expectation  of  a  car- 
tel, which  is  to  take  me  to  my  native  country."  —  Letters,  etc.,  i.  HcO,  351. 

In  the  following,  Mr.  Murray  speaks  directly  of  the  origin  of  the  ceremony  of 
dedication  .■  — 

"  You  ask  an  account  of  the  ceremony  I  have  originated,  instead  of  infant 
sprinkling.  On  my  first  appearance  in  this  country,  during  my  residence  in  the 
State  of  New  Jeisey,  I  was  requested,  as  the  phrase  is,  to  christen  the  children 
of  my  hearers.  I  asked  them  what  was  their  design  in  making  such  a  proposal 
to  me  ?  When  they  replied,  they  only  wished  to  do  their  duty.  *  How,  my 
friends,'  returned  I,  '  came  you  to  believe  infant  sprinkling  a  duty?  '  —  '  Why, 
is  it  not  a  command  of  God  to  sprinkle  infants  ?  '  —  'If  you  will,  from  Scripture 
authority,  produce  any  warrant  sufficient  to  authorize  me  to  baptize  children,  I 
will  immediately,  as  in  duty  bound,  submit  thereto.  Our  Saviour  sprinkled  no 
infant  with  water;  those  who  were  baptized  by  his  harbinger  plunged  into  the 
River  Jordan,  which  plunging  was  figurative  of  the  ablution  by  which  we  are 
cleansed  in  the  b'ood  of  our  Saviour ;  but  infants  are  not  plunged  in  a  river. 

"  '  Paul  declares  he  was  not  sent  to  baptize,  and  he  thanks  God  that  he  had 
baptized  so  few;  nor  does  it  appear  that  among  those  few  there  were  any  infants. 
It  is  not  a  solitary  instance  to  find  a  whole  household  without  a  babe.  The 
eunuch  conceived  it  necessary  there  should  be  much  water  for  the  performance 
of  the  rite  of  baptism;  all  this  seems  to  preclude  the  idea  of  sprinkling  and  of 
infant  baptism ;  and  it  is  said  that  whole  centuries  passed  by,  after  the  commence- 
ment of  the  Christian  era,  before  the  sprinkling  of  a  single  infant.  I  am,  how- 
ever, commencing  a  long  journey;  many  months  will  elapse  before  my  return. 
I  pray  you  to  search  the  Scriptures  during  my  absence ;  and  if,  when  we  meet 
again,  you  can  point  out  the  chapter  and  verse  wherein  my  God  has  commanded 
his  ministers  to  sprinkle  infants,  I  will  immediately  prepare  myself  to  yield  an 
aiihesitating  obedience.'  I  pursued  my  journey,  —  I  returned  to  New  Jersey,  my 
then  home,  —but  no  authority  could  be  produced  from  the  sacred  waitings  for 
infant  sprinkling.  Still,  however,  religious  parents  were  uneasy,  and  piously 
anxious  to  give  testimony,  public  testimony,  of  their  reliance  upon  and  confidence 
in  the  God  of  their  salvation.  Many,  perhaps,  were  influenced  by  the  fashion 
of  this  world;  but  some,  I  trust,  by  considerations  of  a  higher  origin. 

"  I  united  with  my  friends  in  acknowledging  that  when  God  had  blctsed  them 
hy  puttin/T  into  their  hands  and  under  tlieir  care  one  of  the  members  of  his  body 


LIFE    OF  ilEV.    JOHN  Mui^  J  J-.  367 

solemn  sense  his  children.  A  gentleman  atLending  ir.  cl^ 
church  in  Bennet  Street,  addressing  Mr.  Murray  by  ieo  er, 
thus  observes  :  "  T  was  very  much  pleased  at  yci..r  meet- 
ing ;  the  orderly,  respectable,  and  serins  :lemef.nor  of  youj 
sociei} ,  their  silent  and  fixed  attention  upon   3'ou,  pcue- 

■wlnch  he  had  purchased  with  his  precious  Mood,  it  seemed  proper  an1  L•'aso^3 
hlc-  that  t'ley  sliould  present  the  infant  to  the  God  who  gave  it,  askiag  'ii.3  aid  in 
lac  important  duty  which  had  devolved  upon  them,  and  religiously  confessing, 
by  tlils  aci,  their  obligation  to  and  dependence  on  the  Father  of  all  worlds.  Je"; 
wo  CDu^d  not  c?ll  an  act  of  this  kind  baptism ;  we  believe  there  is  but  one  bapti9^n  . 
and  tbiS;  because  the  Spirit  of  God  asserts,  by  the  Apostle  Paul,  that  there  is  I'U^ 
one  baptism,  and  the  idea  of  this  single  baptism  is  corroborated  by  the  class  iu 
■which  we  find  it  placed.  '  One  Lord,  one  faith,  one  haptiam,  one  God  and  Father 
of  all,  icho  is  above  all,  and  through  all,  and  in  you  all.-  Ephesians  iv.,  5,  6. 
After  much  deliberation  I  proposed,  and  many  of  my  hearers  have  adopted,  the  fol- 
lowing mode  :  The  parent  or  parents  (I  am  always  best  pleased  when  beth  parents 
unite)  bring  their  children  into  the  great  congregation,  and  stand  in  the  broad 
aisle,  in  the  presence  of  the  worshippers  of  God.  The  father,  receiving  the  babe 
from  the  arras  of  the  mother,  presents  it  to  the  servant  of  God,  Avho  statedly 
ministers  at  his  altar.  The  ambassador  of  Christ  receives  it  in  his  arms,  deriv- 
ing his  authority  for  this  practice  from  the  example  of  the  Redeemer,  who  says, 
*  Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  me,  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven.' 
The  minister,  therefore,  taking  the  infant  from  its  father,  wo  >  gives  him,  as  he 
presents  it,  the  name  of  the  child,  proclaims  aloud :  '  John  .r  Ma.ry,  we  receive 
thee  as  a  member  of  the  mystical  body  of  him  who  is  the  secoua  Adam,  the  Re- 
deemer of  men.  the  Lord  from  heaven.  "We  dedicate  thee  to  him,  to  wh-^m  thon 
properly  belongest,  to  be  baptized  with  his  own  baptism,  in  the  name  of  the 
Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  and  we  pronounce  upon  thee  that 
blessing  which  he  commanded  his  ministers,  Closes,  Aaron,  and  his  sons,  to 
pronounce  upon  his  people,  saying :  — 

"  '  The  Lord  bless  thee  and  keep  thee ;  • 

"  '  The  Lord  make  his  face  to  shine  upon  thee,  and  be  gracious  unto  thee ; 

*' '  The  Lord  lift  up  his  countenance  upon  thee,  and  give  thee  peace.' 

"For  this  procedure  we  have  the  command,  the  express  command  of  God, 
Our  reason  and  our  religion  concur  to  approve  the  solemnity,  and  our  hearts  are 
at  peace. 

"  The  Lord,  we  repeat,  hath  commanded  us  to  bless  the  people.  God  himself 
pronounced  this  blessing  upon  all  the  people,  in  the  first  Adam,  when  he  placed 
him  in  the  garden  of  Eden,  and  blessing  and  cursing  came  not  from  the  same 
mouth  upon  the  same  characters.  God,  our  God,  is  the  ever-blessing  God;  nor 
are  blessings  given  only  to  the  deserving.  The  blessings  of  providence  and  of 
grace  are  freely  bestowed  upon  the  evil  and  the  unthankful;  and  when  the  evU 


368  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

trated  me  with  sentiments  of  attachment  and  satis- 
faction, and  I  forbore  not  to  invoke  the  providence  of 
God,  that  no  froward  or  adverse  spirit  should  interrupt 
the  harmony  which  now  so  evident!}^  subsists  between 
3'ou." 

Yes,  it  is  indeed  true  that  Mr.  Murray  considered  the 
interests  of  the  people  of  his  charge  as  his  own.  Most 
fondly  did  lie  cherish,  and  perseveringly  did  he  seek  by 
every  possible  means  to  advance  their  reputation.  He 
sympathized  with  the  afflicted,  and  largely  partook  their 
sorrows  ;  w' hile,  so  often  as  the  course  of  events  brought  joy 
to  their  bosoms,  his  eye  beamed  gladness,  and  his  tongue 
e^culted  to  dwell  upon  facts  which  illumined  the  hours  of 
his  protracted  pilgrimage.  His  voice  at  the  bed  of  death 
was  the  herald  of  consolation.  Are  there  not  uncounted 
numb..r3,  still  passing  on  in  this  vale  of  tears,  who,  while 
"ttending  upon  their  expiring  relatives,  have  witnessed  the 
divine  euectj  emanatinor  from  the  luminous  understanding 
of  tne  ^^reacfiii,  and  lighting  up  a  blissful  smile  of  antici- 
pated felicity,  amid  the  agonies  of  dissolving  nature?  To 
the  iged  Le  delighted  to  administer  consolation  ;  his  pres- 
ence jjjave  a  face  of  cheerfulness  to  those  social  hours, 
which  the  numerous  classes  with  whom  he  mingled  were 
went  to  appropriate  to  enjoyment.  Children  lisped  with  in- 
fT.T>tile  transport  the  name  of  the  philanthropic  preacher, 

an '  the  unthankful  obtain  the  knowledge  of  this  truth,  they  earnestly  sigh  to  be 
g  od,  to  be  grateful. 

"  xiut  the  ever-blessed  God  not  only  blessed  the  people  in  their  first  general 
he'vd,  tut  t/i  that  seed,  which  is  Christ.  In  thy  seed,  said  the  Lord  Jehovah, 
sh.^.ll  the  families,  all  the  families  of  the  earth  be  blessed.  This  was  a  royal 
grant.  Ve  <ire  not  in  general  sufficiently  attentive  to  this  particular.  It  is 
c  mmon  to  talk  of  being  blessed  by,  and  some  say  through,  Christ,  but  few,  very 
ftw,  ever  think  of  being  blessed  in  QMristy  —  Sketches,  etc.,  ii.  366-3G8. 

See  also  "  Letters  and  Sketches,"' iii.  345.  T.  W. 


LIFE    OF  RBV.   JOHN  MURRAY,  369 

f-nd  they  were  even  eloquent  in  expressions  of  unfeigned 
attachment.  The  pleasures  of  young  people,  if  under  the 
dominion  of  innocence,  were  uniformly  sanctioned  by  their 
preacher  ;  and  his  appearance  in  well-regulated  circles  of 
hilarit}',  so  far  from  clouding,  was  alwa3^s  considered  as  the 
harbinger  of  high-wrought  entertainment.  If  we  except  a 
single  instance,  we  do  not  know  that,  through  a  series  of 
revolving  3^ears,the  harmon\'  subsisting  between  the  minis- 
ter and  his  congregation  suffered  either  interruption  or 
diminution.  This  instance  originated  in  political  pertinac- 
ity. Party  spirit  occasionally  ran  very  high ;  and  federal 
and  democratic  leaders  were  among  the  adherents  of  Mr. 
Murray.  A  Jul}^  oration  was  to  be  delivered  ;  much  invidious 
disquisition  was  afloat ;  but  it  is  fruitless  to  delineate  ;  suf- 
fice it  to  say,  that  this  oration  and  its  consequences  were 
pregnant  with  anguish  to  an  oft-stricken  heart ;  but,  blessed 
be  God  !  the  threatening  aspect  of  affairs  which  seemed  to 
gather  darkness  was  soon  dispersed,  and  the  sun  of  right-- 
eousness  seemed  to  break  forth  with  renewed  splendor. 
Nor  is  it  wonderful  that  transient  animosities  existed  ;  it  is 
rather  astonishing  they  were  not  more  frequent.  It  was 
truly  affecting,  it  was  beautiful,  and  eminently  consolatory, 
to  behold  persons  of  the  warmest  feelings  and  strongest 
prejudices,  depositing  every  dissenting,  ever}^  foreign  sen- 
timent at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  meeting,  and  mingling 
souls,  and  emphaticall}',  although  tacitly,  saying  to  every 
minor  consideration,  "  Tarry  ye  here,  while  we  go  up  to 
worship." 

Too  soon  have  the  years  of  felicity  fled  away.     They  rise 

to  view  like  the  vision  of  some  blissful  era,  which  we  have 

imagined^  not  realized.     Suddenl}^  we  were  aroused  from 

our  dream  of  security  ;  the  torpid  hand  of  palsy  blighted 

24 


370  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

our  dearest  hopes:  the  preacher,  the  head,  the  husband, 
the  father,  was  in  a  moment  precipitated  from  a  state  of 
high  health,  and  prostrated  beneath  the  tremendous  stroke 
of  the  fell  destroyer. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


RECORD     CONTINUED     FROM      OCTOBER,     1809,     TO     SEPTEMBER, 
1815,    INCLUDING    THE    CLOSING    SCENE. 

Portentously  the  dense,  dark  cloud  ar6se; 

Long  was  the  night,  surcharged  with  clustering  woes; 

But,  blest  Religion,  robed  in  spotless  white, 

"With  torch  of  faith,  pointing  to  realms  of  light, 

Marched  splendid  on;  wide  o'er  the  brightening  way, 

Leading  the  saint  to  never-ending  day. 


It  was  upon  the  nineteenth  day  of  October,  1809, 
that  the  fatal  blow  was  given  to  a  life  so  valuable,  so 
greatly  endeared,  so  trul}^  precious ;  but,  although  the 
corporeal  powers  of  the  long  active  preacher  became 
so  far  useless  as  to  render  him  as  helpless  as  a  ..eW' 
born  babe ;  although  he  was  indeed  a  complete  cripple, 
yet   the    saint    still    lingered  ;*    was    still     detrined    liy 

*  Mr,  Murray  was  present  at  the  inatallati  n  of  Rev.  Edward  Turner,  and  the 
dedication  of  the  new  church  at  Salem,  June  22,  1809,  within  three  months  of  his 
paralysis.  He  was  verging  upon  seventy  years  of  age,  and  was  already  "  \vea« 
and  feeble."  He  "  made  the  dedicatory  prayer,  which  melted  into  unison 
every  heart."  Rev.  George  Richards,  of  Portsmouth,  who  was  just  about  remov- 
ing to  Philadelphia,  preached  the  sermon  of  dedication.  He  was  a  man  of  great 
oratorical  gifts.  Mr.  Murray  "  watched  him  closely,  with  a  tearful  eye."  As  Mr. 
Richards  "  drew  towards  the  end  of  the  discourse,  which  was  very  long,  he 
turned  round  toward  Father  Murray,  seized  his  hand,  and  cried  out  in  the  lan- 
guage of  Elisha  to  the  ascending  Elijah,  '  My  father,  my  father,  the  chariot  of 
Israel  and  the  horsemen  thereof! '  The  salutation  was  so  sud  "en,  and  Father 
Murray's  strength  had  been  so  much  impaired  by  age  and  sickness,  that  he  shook 
•with  emotion  while  the  speaker  continued  his  very  rapturous  address.'  Mr. 
Murray  gave  the  charge  to  the  pastor-elect.    After  his  prostration  by  paraiysi?_ 

371 


372  LIFE    OF   REV.  JOHN   MURRAY. 

the  all-wise  decree  of  the  Most  High,  a  prisoner  in  his  clay- 
built  tenement,  nor  did  his  complete  beatification  take 
place  until  the  Sabbath  morning  of  September  3,  1815, 
lacking  only  a  few  da^'s  of  six  complete  j'ears.  Yet  was 
his  patience,  so  far  as  we  have  known,  unexampled.  No 
murmur  against  the  inflictions  of  Heaven  escaped  his  lips  ; 
praises  of  his  paternal  Creator  were  still  found  upon  his 
tongue,  and  the  goodness  of  his  God  continued  his  endur- 
ing theme.  Unwavering  in  his  testimou}^,  he  repeatedly 
and  most  devoutly  said,  "  No  man  on  earth  is  under  so 
many  obligations  to  Almighty  God  as  myself ;  j'es,  I  will 
adore  the  great  Source  of  being  so  long  as  I  shall  exist, 
and  every  facult}^  of  my  soul  shall  bless  my  redeeming  Cre- 
ator." Yet,  it  is  true  that,  w^hen  the  once  cheerful  Sabbath 
bells  vibrated  upon  his  ear,  he  would  frequentl}'  lift  towards 
heaven  a  humid  e3'e,  and  mournfully  articulate,  "  Alas ! 
alas !  it  is  not  with  me  as  heretofore,  when  I  could  hear  the 
tribes  devoutl}^  sa}',  '  Up,  Israel,  to  the  temple  haste,  and 
keep  this  festal  day.'  "  Soon,  however,  his  mind  was  hushed 
to  peace  by  calm  and  firm  confidence  in  his  God,  and  he 
would  add,  "  Well,  well,  when  /  awaJce  in  thy  likeness^  I 
shall  be  satisfied.  AVe  are  asleep  in  the  present  state  ;  we 
are  asleep  in  the  likeness  of  the  earthh'  man  ;  all  our  un- 
easy sensations  are  unpleasant  dreams.  Pleasures,  derived 
from  mere  terrestrial  enjo^^ments,  detached  from  intellect, 
are  also  dreams,  and,  like  the  baseless  fabric  oj  a  vision^ 
shall  not  leave  a  lorech  behind.  But  if  my  life  have  been  a 
continued  sleep,  and  the  greater  part  of  my  pains  and  pleas- 


t'jough  "  almost  as  helpless  as  a  babe,  he  sometimes  appeared  at  church ;  but  he 
-  ;.^t  have  been  actually  borne  In  by  his  friends.   He  was  present  at  the  installa- 
;     .1  cf  Mr.  Dean,"  as  his  colleague,  "  in  August,  1813."  —  Whittemore's  Life  of 
i3tUlou.  —  G.  L.  D. 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY,  S?"^ 

ures  dreams  ;  3'et,  ivliile  this  deep  sleep  has  been  upon  me^ 
the  Almighty  hath  instructed  me;  yes,  blessed  be  his  name, 
the  roof  of  his  mouth  is  as  the  best  wine,  which  goeth  down 
sweetly,  causing  the  lips  of  those  ivho  are  asleep  to  speak. 
Oh!  for  more  of  this  best  wine,  that  my  lips  may  show  forth 
his  praise,  that  I  may  drink  and  forget  all  sorroiv." 

Thus  was  the  tenor  of  his  mind  generally  acquiescent 
and  his  impatience  to  be  gone  was  frequently  subdued  b}- 
an  operative  conviction  of  the  sovereign  wisdom,  as  well 
as  paternal  love,  of  Deity.  His  Bible  was  his  constant 
companion.  Seated  bj^  his  affectionate  assistant  in  his 
easy-chair,  and  the  book  of  God  opened  before  him,  the 
man  of  patience,  during  six  succeeding  years,  passed  the 
long  summer  mornings  from  the  sun's  early  beams,  ri  ex- 
amining and  re-examining  the  will  of  his  .ujgust 
Father.  He  had,  through  a  long  life,  been  conversant 
with  a  variety  of  English  authors.  Poets,  dramatic  writers , 
essayists,  and  historians  were  familiar  to  him  ;  lio  took 
great  delight  in  perusing  them.  But,  travelling  through 
those  multiplied  pages,  might  be  termed  his  excursion^, 
while  the  sacred  volume  was  liis  intellkctual  home. 
Man}^  hours  in  everj^  day  were  devoted  to  the  attenlivij 
perusal  of  the  Scriptuies,  and  3^et  his  sentiments  were  un- 
varied ;  not  a  single  feature  of  the  system  he  haa  so  long 
advocated  was  changed. 

Mr.  Murray  was  fond  of  calling  .'limself  the  Ix)r(i's 
prisoner ;  and  he  would  a.ld,  I  l,ii.,  ly  consequence,  a 
prisoner  of  hope.  Turing  lis  ccnfinerrenu  many  respect- 
able gentlemen,  clergymen  in  Boston,  visited  fxin.  ''>ne 
or  two  repeated  their  visits  and  they  apf. arently  rcgarlo;'; 
the  now  white-haired  servant  of  God  with  kindness  an^. 
respect.     One  clercynan   questioned   Lin     respecting   ii-«* 


374  r.IFE    OF  REV.    JOHN   MURRAY. 

t:;en  pres'^nt  views,  wishing  to  ascertain  if  bis  faith  were 
still  in  f*.'  ercise,  if  he  were  willing  to  depart.  "  Oh,  yes, 
yes,  3"es,''  exclaimed  the  long-illumined  Christian,  "  the 
'oriLUS  uanifestations  of  divine  love  still  brighten  upon 
juc.  ^v-gnt  ;jrecious  to  mj^  soul  are  the  promises,  the  oath 
OF  JEH3Vii.n  ;  and,  sir,  so  far  from  shrinking  from  m}^  ap- 
p^  -  icni'i.^  hange,  my  onl}^  struggle  is  for  patience  to 
ab^e,  until  the  time  appointed  for  my  emancipation.  I 
'\^ould  cultivate  a  humble,  child-like  resignation  ;  but  hope 
deferred  doth  indeed  too  often  make  the  heart  sick."  Anoth- 
3r  gentleman  congratulated  him  on  his  apparent  convales- 
cence. "  Oh  !  sir,"  he  returned,  "  the  voice  of  gladness  suits 
not  my  present  feelings  ;  it  is  as  if,  when  I  believed  I 
was  voyaging  to  my  native  shores,  where  health,  happiness, 
and  peace  awaited  me,  borne  onward  by  gales  the  most 
propitious,  and  supposing  m3'self  almost  in  the  moment 
of  obtaining  the  long-desired  haven,  when  suddenly  driven 
back  by  some  adverse  circumstance,  instead  of  being 
soothed  b}^  condolence,  I  am  pierced  to  the  soul  by  the 
discordant  sounds  of  felicitation."  Yet,  we  repeat,  the 
revered  teacher  was  in  general  astonishingly  patient,  re- 
signed, and  even  cheerful.  He  was  frequently  heard  to 
say  that  he  had  experienced,  in  the  course  of  his  con- 
finement, more  of  the  abundant  goodness  of  his  God,  than 
through  the  whole  of  his  preceding  life  ;  and  those  most 
conversant  with  him  could  not  forbear  observing  that  the 
protracted  period  which  would  in  prospect  have  risen  to 
the  eye  with  a  most  melanchol}^  if  not  terrific  aspect,  taken 
as  a  whole,  exhibited  the  saint  more  equal,  calm,  and  dig- 
nified, than  any  other  six  3'ears  of  his  existence.  A  re- 
spectable gentleman,  not  of  his  persuasion,  but  candid  and 
benign,  remarked,  that  his  character  was  elevated  to   no 


LIFE    OF   REV.   JOHN  MURRAY,  375 

common  height ;  that  his  uncomplaining  endurance  of  suf- 
fering, and  the  unwavering  steadfastness  of  his  faith,  had 
stamped  his  testimony  with  the  seal  of  integrity,  and  gave 
that  confirmation  to  his  confidence  in  his  own  views  of 
sacred  writ,  which  could  not  fail  of  rejoicing  the  hearts  of 
his  adherents. 

The  chamber  of  adversity  was  occasionally  illumined  by 
the  presence  of  friends;  and  one  sympathizing,  kind- 
hearted,  afi'ectionate  brother  was  so  uniform  in  his  appear- 
ance with  the  close  of  every  week,  that  we  might  almost 
have  designated  the  day  and  the  hour  of  the  evening  by 
his  approaches.  Nor  was  the  demise  of  his  teacher  the 
period  of  his  kindness ;  his  countenance,  his  aid,  his  com- 
miseration, his  society,  are  still  loaned  to  the  solitary, 
the  bereaved  family.  Dear,  faithful  man !  May  the  rich 
blessings  of  Almighty  God  rest  upon  thee  and  thine,  until 
thou  hast  finished  th}^  mortal  career ;  and  mayest  thou,  in 
the  regions  of  blessedness,  renew,  with  thy  beloved  teacher, 
that  friendship  which,  while  tenanted  in  clay,  thou  hast  so 
well  known  to  appreciate. 

To  three  other  gentlemen,  devoted  adherents  to  the  la- 
mented deceased,  warm  acknowledgments  are,  also,  most 
righteously  due.  Their  kind,  and  still  continued,  atten- 
tions are  gratifjdng  proof  of  their  attachment  to  him,  who 
was  so  'tear  to  them ;  and  gratitude  hath,  with  mournful 
ait.crit}',  reared  her  altars  in  the  bosoms  of  the  widow  and 
',l.v  fatherless. 

Some  strange  occurrences  were  noted,  which  filled  'the 
••<;art  of  the  venerable  man  of  God  with  sorrow,  un- 
uLterable  sorrow.  Everything  seemed  to  point  home- 
^i-rd  to  the  sky,  and  upon  Lord's  day  morning, 
Augast    27,    1815,    at     four    o'clock,    an   especial   sum- 


376  LIFE    CF  REV.    JOHN  MURhA    . 

mons  was  despatched  by  the  Most  High,  to  recall  nis  Ion  j- 
tried  servant ;  but,  alas !  we  did  not  recognize  the  ii.v.s- 
senger.  We  rather  believed  that  the  circumstances  whicL 
marked  the  acknowledged  chai-ge  would  look  with  a 
friendly  aspect  upon  the  health  of  the  beloved  man  during 
the  succeeding  autumn  and  winter ;  bat  the  honored  suf- 
ferer himself,  apparently  better  informed,  anticipatingly 
observed,  "  Who  knows?  perhaps  the  liberating  hour  is 
at  hand."  And  his  feelings  were  always  elated  or  de- 
pressed in  exact  proportion  as  the  moment  of  his  departur*. 
seemed  to  advance  or  recede. 

The  progress  of  the  new  disease  was  astonishingly  rapid. 
A  physician  was  summoned,  who  permitted  the  indulgence 
of  hope.  On  Tuesday,  twenty-ninth,  his  complaints  evidently 
abated,  insomuch,  that  while  the  features  of  his  strongly 
marked  face  expressed  the  deepest  mortification,  he 
tremulously  exclaimed,  "  Am  I,  then,  once  more  thrown 
back,  the  melancholy  subject  of  alternate  hope  and  fear?" 
On  Wednesday  every  symptom  increased  ;  he  obtained  little 
rest,  and  hope  manifestly  triumphed  in  his  bosom.  Another 
physician  was  called  in,  whose  doubtful  answers  to  pro- 
posed questions  created  much  alarm.  He  seemed  to  consider 
nature  as  surrendering  her  offices.  In  the  course  of  Thurs- 
da}^  thirty-first,  he  repeatedly  and  earnestly  said,  ''  I 
cannot  be  sufficiently  thankful  to  God  my  Saviour,  that  I 
suffer  no  pain,  either  of  body  or  mind."  To  a  3'oung,  and 
tenderly  interested  friend,  he  smilingly  observed,  ''lam 
hastening  through  the  vallev  of  the  shadow  of  death.  I 
am  about  to  quit  this  distempered  state ;  3^et  a  little  mo- 
ment, and  I  shall  be  received  into  the  city  of  the  living 
God,  with  the  innumerable  company  of  the  apostles,  and 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY,  377 

spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect,  and  I  shall  continue  for- 
ever in  the  presence  of  my  divine  Master." 

His  family  solicited  his  blessing.  ''  You  are  blessed," 
he  replied,  ''  3'ou  are  blessed  with  all  the  spiritual  blessings 
in  Christ  Jesus  ;  and,  remember,"  he  added,  fixing  his  dying 
eyes  upon  their.,  "  remember,  that  however  tried  in  this 
world,  there  is  another  and  better  state  of  things ;  and 
that,  although  pierced  in  this  vale  of  tears  by  the  arrows 
of  unkindness  and  ingratitude,  there  is  One  who  loveth 
you  with  an  everlasting  love,  and  who  will  never  leave 
you  nor  forsake  3:OU." 

On  Friday  morning,  September  1st,  some  expressions 
gave  positive  proof  of  his  sanity  ;  but  as  the  day  advanced 
his  derangement  was  supposed  unquestionable,  and  from 
this  hour  until  Saturday  evening  a  little  after  sunset 
he  continued,  with  few  intervals,  incoherently  repeating 
the  most  consolatory  passages  in  the  book  of  God.  His 
right  hand  was  constantly  in  motion,  and  when  any  one 
approached,  whatever  might  be  the  question,  the  answer 
was   ready.     "  To   Him,"     said    the    expiring   Christian, 

"  SHALL  THE  GATHERING  OP  THE  PEOPLE  BE,  AND  HiS  REST 
SHALL     BE     GLORIOUS,     GLORIOUS,    GLORIOUS.       I    am    blcSSCd 

with  all  spiritual  blessings  in  Christ  Jesus.  Nor  I  alone, 
Christ  Jesus  hath  tasted  death  for  every  man,"  etc., 
etc.  These  God-honoring,  man-restoring  truths  were 
audibly  articulated,  while  voice  and  strength  continued ; 
and  when  speaking  only  in  a  whisper  to  the  listening  ear 
applied  to  his  moving  lips,  it  was  ascertained  that  the 
same  consolatory  assurances  still  dwelt  upon  his  tongue. 
Was  this  delirium?  or,  if  it  were,  was  it  not  a  delirium 
irradiated  by  the  powerful'  influence  of  redeeming  love? 
Did  not  the  luminous  truths  upon  which  the  noble,   the 


378  LIFE    OF  EEV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

capacious  mind  had  s:  long  reposed,  beam  refulgent  over 
the  scattering  fragm  .i.ts  then  dissolving,  whi!;h  had  for 
a  term  of  more  than  seventy  years  embodied  the  immortal 
tenant? 

Almost  immediately  after  sunset  on  Saturday  evening 
he  ceased  to  speak.  His  right  hand  no  longer  waved,  and 
he  continued  in  the  san  t  position  in  which  the  enduring 
kindness  of  his  faitliful  assistant  had  placed  him,  until 
six  o'clock,  Lcrd's-day  inorning,  September  3,  1815 ; 
when,  without  a  sigh,  or  a  struggle,  or  a  single  dis- 
tortion of  CountenancOj  he  expired.  His  long-imprisoned 
spirit  escaped  to  the  God  wh<;  gave  it. 

It  did  nut  appear  through  the  whole  of  Friday  and 
Saturday,  that  he  suL'ered  the  least  pain,  except  when  an 
attempt  was  made  tc  move  him.  His  breath  grew  shorter 
and  shorter,  like  the  sweet  sleep  of  a  tired  infant,  until  it 
could  no  more  be  distinguished.  He  departed  this  life  in 
the  sevent3'-fifth  year  of  his  age. 

Sacred  be  the  scene  which  immediately  succeeded.  We 
do  not  wish  —  we  attempt  not  —  to  lift  the  veil ;  but  we  ex- 
ult in  the  conviction  that  we  shall  ere  long  follow  the  eman- 
cipated spirit  to  the  abode  of  blessedness. 

The  interment  could  be  deferred  only  until  Monday 
evening,  September  4th.  Funeral  honors  were  promptly 
and  unanimously  decreed.  The  children  of  the  societ}^  dis- 
tinguished by  a  badge  of  mourning,  preceded  the  body ; 
a  long,  solemn,  well-ordered,  and  respectable  procession 
followed  the  train  of  mourners ;  private  carriages  were 
added  to  those  appointed  by  the  society  ;  the  body  was 
deposited  upon  stands  in  the  aisle  of  the  church ;  the 
pulpit  and  galleries  were  hung  with  black  ;  religious  ex- 
ercises were  performed ;  when  it  was  entombed  with  the 


LIFE    OF  REV,   JOHN  MURRAY.  379 

ashes  of  those  to  whom  he  had  been  foncllj''  attached. 
Everything,  which  immediate!}^  referred  to  the  sacred  re- 
mains of  the  deceased,  was  liberally  provided  by  the 
religious  adherents  of  the  promulgator,  and  the  arrears 
which  icould  have  been  due  to  the  family,  had  the  vote  of 
March,  1815,  been  similar  to  that  of  March,  1814,  wen 
paid  to  a  single  farthing.* 


*  The  funeral  discourse  was  pronounced  by  Rev.  Thomas  Jones,  of  Gloucester, 
and  prayers  were  offered  by  Rev.  Hosea  Ballou,  of  Salem,  and  Rev.  Edward 
Turner,  of  Charlestown.  Subsequently  a  eulogy  was  pronounced  by  Mr.  Murray's- 
colleague,  Bev.  Paul  Dean.  —  G.  L.  D. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

CONCLUSION. 
And  now  the  feverish  dream  of  life  is  o'er. 

Had  we  talents,  we  would  exhibit  a  portrait  of  the  de- 
ceased ;  but,  besides  that  we  feel  ourselves  inadequate  to 
a  task  so  arduous,  we  are  not  perfectly  convinced  of  its 
propriety.  Friendship  might  be  too  warm,  and  admiration 
too  lavish.  His  colleague  has  been  his  eulogist,  and  no 
friend  of  the  deceased  will  pronounce  the  panegyric  an  ex- 
aggeration. Perhaps  it  does  not  contain  a  more  just,  or  a 
more  happy  paragraph  than  the  following:  "Without  a 
second  to  aid  him,  you  saw  him  pass  along  these  shores 
from  Maryland  to  New  Hampshire,  like  the  lonely  pelican 
of  the  wilderness,  publishing,  as  with  the  voice  of  an  angel, 
the  tidings  of  everlasting  life  to  the  whole  world,  in  the 
name,  and  through  the  mission  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.** 

It  has  been  said  that  persuasion  dwelt  upon  the  lips  of 
our  philanthropist.  The  pages  of  recollection  furnish  many 
instances  of  his  powerful  and  soul-subduing  eloquence.  We 
are  impelled  to  select,  from  the  fading  record,  two  facts 
which  are  well  authenticated  :  — 

A  London  mob  had  assembled  in  great  force,  with  the 
most  destructive  and  murderous  designs.  Time-honored 
edifices  were  to  be  demolished,  and  the  weapons  of  death 
to  be  pointed  at  the  most  valuable  lives.     This  scene  of 

380 


LIFE    OF  REV.   JOHN  MURRAY.  3^1 

riot  was  exhibited  during  the  troubles  relative  to  Mr. 
Wilkes  ;  all  was  tumult  and  tremendous  uproar  ;  an  attea  r.*; 
at  r'^asoning  was  stifled  by  outrageous  clamor ;  tbe  efforts 
of  peace  officers  were  fruitless,  and  the  military  was  on  the 
point  of  being  called  into  action,  when  Mr.  Murray,  re- 
turning from  some  religious  meeting  to  his  peaceful  home, 
found  himself  in  the  midst  of  the  infuriated  rioters,  and  in- 
stantly mounting  a  stand,  which  opportunel}^  presented,  n^ 
harangued  the  lawless  multitude  ;  and,  by  soothing  their 
prejudices,  addressing  their  passions,  and  pointing  out  the 
only  legitimate  steps  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  redress, 
he  first  obtained  silence,  next  softened  and  ameliorated 
their  passions,  and  finally  dispersed,  without  mischief,  a 
most  enraged  populace.  A  nobleman,  seizing  him  by  the 
hand,  impressively  said,  "  Young  man,  I  thank  you.  I  am 
ignorant  of  your  name  ;  but  I  bear  testimony  to  your  won- 
derful abilities.  By  your  exertions,  much  blood  and  treas- 
ure have  this  night  been  saved." 

The  second  instance  which  we  present  is  nearer  home^ 
A  motion  was  made  in  the  legislature  of  a  sister  State, 
then  province,  to  raise  a  sum  of  money  for  the  relief  of  the 
Bostonians,  sufiering  from  the  severe  decrees  of  a  British 
ministry.  Mr.  Murray  attended  the  debates  ;  the  motion 
was  seconded,  and  supported  with  spirit  and  judgment,  and 
it  was  opposed  with  some  violence  and  little  reason.  It 
was  put  to  vote,  and  lost  by  a  majority  of  twelvo  persons  ; 
Mr.  Murray's  particular  adherents  voting  against  it.  It 
happened  he  was  on  that  day  to  dine  at  the  house  of  a  Dr. 

B ,  one   of  the   triumphant    majority,    with   several 

gentlemen  on  the  same  side  of  the  question,  when  his  pow- 
erful animadversions  and  reasoning  upon  the  subject 
wrought  so  great  a  revolution  as  to  produce  a  reconsidera- 


582  LIFE    OF  liEV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

tion  of  the  vote,  and  the  motion  for  succoring  the  Bosto- 
nians  passed  by  a  majority  of  nine  persons. 

Mr.  Murray  has  been  accused  of  licentious  opinions  and 
practices.  His  letters  to  his  friends  would  fill  many  vol- 
umes ;  addressed  to  the  private  ear  of  those  he  best  loved, 
they  ought  to  decide  upon  his  opinions  ;  and,  for  his  life, 
perhaps  no  man  of  abilities  so  stinted  was  ever  a  greater 
blessing  to  mankind.  We  indulge  ourselves  with  giving 
one  letter,  written  to  the  son  of  a  most  intimate  friend  :  — 

''You  are  placed  at  school  for  two  purposes :  the  im- 
provement of  3' our  understanding,  and  the  formation  of 
virtuous  principles.  It  cannot  be  doubted  that  the  im- 
provement of  the  heart  is  esteemed  by  those  to  whom  you 
are  most  dear,  beyond  the  most  cultivated  intellect.  It  is 
your  business  to  unite  these  estimable  objects  ;  3^our  heart 
and  understanding  should  be  emulous  in  pursuit  of  excel- 
lence. Ethics,  improved  and  elevated  by  the  Christian 
religion,  become  the  guides  to  real  wisdom  and  solid  hap- 
piness. These  they  could  never  have  attained  in  the  schools 
of  heathen  philosoph}^  It  is  not  expected  that  j^ou  should 
thus  early  be  engaged  in  the  profound  disquisitions  of 
theology.  The  plain  doctrines  of  the  religion,  which  it  is 
hoped  3^ou  will  profess,  have  been  explained  to  j^ou  ;  but 
the  principal  business  is.  to  open  j'^our  heart  for  the  recep- 
tion of  those  sentiments  and  principles,  which  will  conduce 
to  the  direction  of  j^our  actions  in  the  employments  and 
engagements  of  your  subsequent  life.  Permit  me,  how- 
ever, to  remind  you  of  the  necessity  of  reading  the  Scrip- 
tures, that  is,  of  drinking  the  sacred  waters  at  the  fountain 
head.  But,  to  read  the  Scriptures  with  advantage,  judg- 
ment is  necessary  ;  and  as  your  judgment  is  not  yet  ma- 
tured, you  must  submit  to  the  direction  of  your  instructors. 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  383 

The  plainest  and  most  perspicuous  passages  will,  for  the 
present,  best  deserve  and  reward  your  attention.  The  his- 
torical parts  of  the  Old  Testament  will  entertain  you,  if  you 
consider  them  only  in  a  classical  point  of  view,  as  valuable 
passages  of  ancient  history  ;  but  I  would  call  your  attention 
more  immediately  to  the  books  which  are  most  replete  with 
moral  instruction,  such  as  the  Proverbs  of  Solomon,  the 
Wisdom  of  the  Son  of  Sirach,  and  the  admirable  book  enti- 
tled Ecclesiasticus.  I  trust  the  time  will  come,  when  the 
prophecies  will  most  pleasingly  instruct  3'ou  ;  at  present  you 
will  peruse  them  for  the  poetical  beauties  which  they  con- 
fessedly display.  Isaiah  abounds  with  fine  passages  of  this 
description,  and  Jeremiah  is  b}^  no  means  deficient  in  this 
line.  You  have  no  doubt  read  Pope's  "  Messiah,"  and  could 
not  but  have  observed  that  its  most  pleasing  imager}'  is 
selected  from  Isaiah.  If  you  read  the  Old  Testament  with  a 
taste  for  its  beauties,  3'ou  will  accomplish  two  important 
purposes  :  3'ou  wiU  acquire  a  knowledge  of  the  Holy  Bible, 
which  is  your  dut}',  and  you  will  improve  3'our  taste  and 
judgment.  The  New  Testament  requires  the  attention  of 
ever}^  one,  who  professes  himself  a  Christian.  You  must  read 
it  with  that  humility  which  becomes  a  finite  being,  but  more 
particularly'  a  3'oung  person.  You  will  do  well  to  pa}-  especial 
attention  to  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  and  to  that  admira- 
ble epitome  of  all  moral  philosophy,  the  rule  of  doing  to 

OTHERS  AS  'WE  WOULD  THEY  SHOULD  DO  UNTO  US.      If  \0\X  pay 

due  obedience  to  this  precept  3'ou  will  never  hesitate  in  deter- 
mining what  part  you  are,  upon  ever3-  occasion,  to  act.  It 
is  proper  you  should  familiarize  your  mind  to  the  language 
of  Scripture  ;  although  3'ou  ma3'  not  full3'  comprehend  the 
sacred  writings,  3^ou  will  thus  treasure  up  in  your  memor3' 
many  useful  passages,  which  ma3'  become  in  future  highl3^ 


384  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

consolatory.  An  early  acquaintance  with  the  letter  of  the 
Old  and  New  Testaments  has  been  found  a  substantial  prop 
through  lengthening  years  ;  but  all  this,  my  dear  young 
friend,  will  avail  but  little,  unless  you  add  thereto  prayer 
and  praise.  Make  it  therefore  a  rule,  never  to  be  violated, 
to  pray  night  and  morning.  The  Redeemer,  while  clothed 
in  humanit}^  earnestl}^  and  fervently  addressed  the  Deity  ; 
forget  not,  therefore,  to  offer  your  private  addresses  to  the 
Father  of  your  spirit,  at  retiring  to  rest,  and  with  the  early 
dawn.  Your  age  is  the  age  of  inadvertence  ;  you  enjoy 
health,  and  you  are  a  stranger  to  the  cares  of  the  world. 
Cheerfulness  does  indeed  become  3'ou,  but  let  me  pray  you 
to  consider  the  value  of  time,  and  the  importance  of  ap- 
propriating it  to  wisdom.  Consider  your  parents ;  the 
anxiety  they  experience  upon  3'our  account ;  most  ardently 
do  they  desire  3'our  improvement.  Laudably  ambitious, 
they  are  solicitous  that  you  should  be  eminent,  in  what- 
ever profession  or  employment  you  may  be  destined  to 
engage.  To  see  you  contemptible  would  fill  them  with 
the  extreme  of  anguish  ;  and,  trust  me,  nothing  will  rescue 
you  from  contempt,  but  individual  merit,  a  good  disposi- 
tion, adorned  by  literature,  and  embellished  by  the  lighter 
accomplishments,  and  especially  elevated  by  Christianity. 
Your  parents  have  labored  indefatigably  to  promote  you  , 
but  it  remains  with  3'ourself  to  give  success  to  their  endeav- 
ors. The  mind  is  not  like  a  vessel,  into  which  we  ma;, 
pour  an}'  good  qualit}-,  whatever  the  director  may  choose  ; 
it  is  rather  like  a  plant,  which,  by  the  operation  of  its  own 
internal  powers^  imbibes  the  nutriment  afforded  by  the  earth. 
I  repeat,  it  is  certain  that  instructors  can  slj...  y,^u  only 
in  conjunction  with  3'ourown  efforts.  Let  me,  riien,  ert'-e- < 
you  to  exert  yourself,  if  you  have  any  regar'i   for    the. 


LIFE    OF  REV,    .  .-^1^^  MVA±iAI.  385 

parents,  whose  hr-ppiness  so  much  depends  upon  j'our  con- 
duct ;  if  3'ou  have  ary  regard  for  your  own  honor,  felicity, 
iMd  prosperity  ;  if  yoi:  hope  to  be  useful,  and  respected  in 
cociety. 
"Always  consider  lie  as  your  :^r^end  and  servant, 

"John   Murray/* 

If  the  testimony  of  res;,e'^table  contemporaries  ;  of  men 
who  disdained  flatter}',  a:id  whose  judgment  was  unques- 
tionable ;  who  delightet'.  to  address  our  departed  friend  in 
the  strains  of  panegyric,  —  if  th  .so  vouchers  were  permitted 
to  decide  in  his  favor,  we  cor  id  produce  a  cloud  of  wit- 
nesses. "We  content  ourse'v^n  with  a  few  extracts  from 
the  many  letters  whicn  f  l^^-ht  be  produced.  General  Greene 
thup  writes  :  "  You  may  remember,  I  promised  3'ou  a  letter 
at  the  close  of  ever}'  campaign.  Had  I  the  tongue  of  a 
Murray  to  proclaim,  or  the  pen  of  a  Robertson  to  record, 
the  occurrences  of  this  campaign  should  be  delineated  to 
the  honor  of  America.  The  Monmouth  battle,  and  the 
action  upon  Rhode  Island,  were  no  small  triumphs  to  us, 
who  had  so  often  been  necessitated  to  turn  our  backs.  To 
behold  our  fellows,  chasing  the  British  off  the  field  of  bat- 
tle, afforded  a  pleasure  which  you  can  better  conceive  than 
I  can  ''escribe.  If,  my  dear  Murray,  I  had  before  been  an 
n:  ."'•niicver,  I  have  had  sufficient  evidence  of  the  interven- 
tl;j.  of  ilivine  Providence,  to  reclaim  me  from  infidelity  ; 
Zj.j  neart,  I  do  assure  you,  overflows  with  gratitude  to  Him, 
whose  am  is  mightier  than  all  the  princes  of  the  earth. 
In  the  midst  of  difficulties,  and  I  have  encountered  many, 
ray  heart  x^everLs  to  you.  Were  you  addressing  me  from  the 
puljjit,  you  cc'ild  convince  me  that  considering  the  we'  'd 
25 


386  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

to  which  I  am  hastening,  I  have  not  the  least  cause  of  com- 
plaint. I  sigh  for  an  opportunity  of  listening  to  the  music 
of  3'our  voice. 

"  Are  3^ou  and  the  priests  upon  any  better  terms?  Or 
are  they  as  mad  with  you  as  ever?  Well,  go  on,  and  pros- 
per, and  may  God  bless  you  to  the  end  of  the  chapter." 
Again,  General  Greene  writes  :  "It  is,  my  dear  sir,  a  long 
time  since  you  and  I  have  had  a  friendly  meeting.  God 
only  knows  when  we  shall  be  thus  blest.  It  is  impossible 
for  me  to  give  you  an  adequate  idea  of  the  distress  of  the 
once  happy  people  of  New  Jersey.  I  know  your  fancy  is 
lively,  and  your  genius  fertile.  Give  your  faculties  full 
scope,  in  drawing  a  picture,  and  it  will  still  fall  far  short 
of  the  original.  How  greatly  would  you  be  pained  were 
you  present !  you  who  sympathize  with  everything  in  dis- 
tress, and  feel  and  share  the  miseries  of  all  around  you. 
Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear  friend,  ma}-  God  preserve  yon  from 
such  complicated  distress !  Soon  after  you  left  me  upon 
Long  Island,  I  was  seized  with  a  violent  fit  of  sickness ; 
my  restoration  was  unexpected,  but  my  health  is  now  con- 
firmed. Oh,  what  would  I  give  for  a  few  hours  unin- 
terrupted conversation  with  our  dear  Murray !  I  beseech 
you  to  visit  Mrs.  Greene  in  Coventry."  One  more  extract 
from  the  letters  of  General  Greene  shall  suffice.  "  Once 
more,  on  the  close  of  the  campaign,  I  am  to  announce  to 
my  very  dear  friend,  that  I  am  still  an  inhabitant  of  this 
globe.  We  have  had  a  hard  and  bloody  campaign,  yet  we 
ought  rather  to  dwell  upon  the  mercies  we  have  received, 
than  to  repine  because  they  are  not  greater.  But  man  is 
a  thankless  creature  ;  j^et  you,  dear  Murray,  know  that  the 
mercies  of  God  are  happily  proportioned  to  our  weakness. 
Retired  to  winter-quarters,  the  social  passions  once  more 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY,  387 

kindled  into  life,  love  and  friendship  triumph  over  the 
heart,  and  the  sweet  pleasures  of  domestic  happiness  call 
to  remembrance  my  once  happy  circle  of  friends,  in  which 
you,  my  dear  sir,  appear  in  the  first  rank.  My  friendship 
for  you  is  indeed  of  the  warmest  description.  My  attach- 
ment was  not  hastily  formed,  and  it  will  not  easily  be  re- 
linquished. I  early  admired  j^our  talents ;  3^our  morals 
have  earned  my  esteem  ;  and  neither  distance  nor  circum- 
stances will  diminish  m}'  affection." 

The  subjoined  extracts  are  from  letters  written  by  gen- 
tlemen of  high  respectability,  in  the  mercantile,  literary, 
and  Christian  world.  The  first  extract  is  from  a  letter,  so- 
liciting a  visit  from  the  preacher. 

"  The  grand,  the  glorious  expedition  in  which  you  are 
engaged,  to  disseminate  truth  and  knowledge ;  the  assur- 
ances we  can  give  yoxn  how  little  is  known  here,  and  how 
eagerly  it  is  wished  that  the  waj^s  of  God  to  man  should 
be  made  manifest,  will,  I  trust,  induce  you  to  make  an  ex- 
ertion in  our  behalf.  My  ardent  prayer  is  for  your  life  and 
health.  The  harvest  truly  is  great,  but  the  laborers  are 
few ;  3'et  I  trust  in  God  that  the  beams  of  light  will  irra- 
diate this  benighted  world,  and  that  he  will  accelerate  that 
eternal  da}',  when  the  Son  shall  give  up  the  kingdom  to  the 
Father,  and  God  shall  be  all  in  all." 

"  You  solicit  me  to  write.  My  writing  can  afibrd  you  no 
novelty,  for  what  intellectual  ground  is  there  that  you  have 
not  trod,  or  that  I  can  mark  out,  which  you  have  not  be- 
fore observed?  I  am  wearied  with  reiterated  reflection,  and 
I  pant  for  that  sky  where  I  may  range  without  confine- 
ment. The  simple  truths  of  the  gospel  please  me  much. 
I  rest  in  confidence  that  Christ  died  for  me,  rose  again  for 
my  justification,    and  will  make   me   completely  blessed ; 


;^88  LIFE    OF  REV.  JOHN  MURRAY. 

".hat  I  am  essentiall}'  united  to,  and  a  part  of,  that  nature 
^hich  pexvades  all  space,  and  a  spark  of  that  fire  that  shall 
escape  to  heaven,  its  native  seat.  I  recollect  your  preach- 
ing with  pleasure,  and  I  bless  God  for  the  light  he  has  been 
pleased  to  convey  to  m}^  mind,  through  3'our  instrumental- 
ity. May  your  labors  be  blest  with  abundant  success  ;  but 
I  picrdict  the  genuine  gospel  laborers  will  be  but  few.  Poor 
man  !  you  must  stand  singly  opposed,  without  human  aid. 
Be  j;^ersuaded  that  the  conflict  will  be  inferior  to  j^our 
strength.  I  really  despise  the  world  for  their  treatment  of 
you  ;  but  3'ou  know  who  says,  '  Be  of  good  cheer,  I  have 
overcome  the  world.'  What  mildness  was  there  in  the 
majesty  of  the  person  of  the  Redeemer !  He  could  have 
been  no  other  than  the  Deity  enrobed  in  a  mantle  of  flesh. 
I  venerate  the  liberal,  the  magnanimous  principles  of  your 
general  and  your  colonel  •  and  I  love  them,  for  their  friend- 
ship for  you,  and  t^e  estimation  in  which  they  hold  you. 
It  is  so  rare  to  meet  ^'"ith  liberal  and  enlarged  minds, 
that,  when  I  do,  I  exult  at  the  discover^',  and  my  soul  leaps 
to  embrace  them.  Should  you  have  a  vacant  moment,  j'ou 
will  do  well  to  fill  it  by  writing  to  us,  your  children." 

"  Never,  my  dear  Mu-ra}^,  can  I  forget  a-ou,  while  memo- 
ry holdo  her  seat  in  this  benighted  vale.  The  impressions 
are  tco  lasting  to  be  eflfaced,  and  so  deepl}'  are  they  marked 
together,  that,  when  the  ideas  of  tne  great  redemption  arise 
in  my  mind,  those  of  Relly  and  Murray  are  inseparable 
t.ierefrom,  as  i\\^  raeiiums  through  which  sublime  truth 
beamed  upon  my  soui.  I  am  desirous  of  anticipating  that 
adult  age  you  so  beautifully  describe,  when  knowledge 
shall  be  conveyed,  not  by  the  obstructed  tongue,  or  tardy 
l->en,  but  by  iiituiticn.  Bat,  my  dear  sir,  you  must  wait  till 
that  expected  day,  before  I  can  teli  you  how  much  I  esteem^ 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY,  389 

how  much  I  love  3'ou.  Amoiig  a  number  of  things  you 
have  taught  me,  I  reckon  it  not  the  least,  that  the  disposal 
of  human  affairs  is  in  the  direction  of  a  Being  whose  op- 
erations will  alwa3's  produce  the  best  consequences.  I, 
however,  find  it  difficult  to  suppress  the  indignation  I  feel 
at  the  treatment  you  receive.  What  shall  cure  these  dis- 
tempered minds?  What  shall  compose  the  tumult  of  their 
frenzy,  or  rouse  their  feverish  repose  ?  Not  the  skill  of  an 
Isaiah,  nor  the  pra3'ers  of  a  Paul ;  nothing  short  of  the 
prescription  of  the  grand  Physician,  who  is  the  Healer  of 
nations,  and  the  application  of  that  tree,  whose  leaf  is  for 
medicine.  My  wishes  for  you  in  this  case  are  vain  ;  but  I 
can  never  appreciate  the  aspirations  of  my  heart ;  not  that 
you  may  be  exempt  from  the  conflict,  but  that  you  may 
conquer ;  and  \o\i  will  conquer.  Your  reward  is  above,  se- 
cure from  the  rage  of  impotent  man,  and  the  invasion  of 
the  grand  adversar^^  of  human  nature." 

'•  To  be  possessed  of  j^our  confidence  and  friendship 
would  be  flattering  to  me  iu  the  highest  degree.  My  wishes 
are  to  deserve  both.  You  do  indeed  appear  to  me  a  chosen 
one^  an  elect  soul.  Call  these  expressions  extravagant,  if 
3'ou  please,  but  they  are  as  far  short  of  what  I  feel,  as  lan- 
guage is  inadequate  to  the  expressions  of  the  refined  taste 
of  the  mind." 

"  Among  the  almost  innumerable  S3^stems,  respecting 
our  nature,  being,  and  our  end,  in  which  the  world  have  been 
so  perplexed,  and  have  exposed  themselves  so  variousl3', 
none  claims  so  fair  a  title  to  truth  as  the  one  vou  promul- 
gate. But  the  world  have  not  so  liberalh'  attributed  good- 
ness to  Deit3\  Our  benignant  religion  develops  the  good- 
ness of  God  in  the  enlightening  sun,  the  fructifj-ing  rain, 
the  cheering  wine,  and  the  nutritious  bread.     In  short,  in 


390  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHX  MURRAY. 

a  thousand  million  examples,  with  which  nature  soliberall" 
abounds.  Indeed,  we  should  seldom  be  unhapp}',  did  we 
more  constantl}'  realize  the  presence  of  a  redeeming  Go(l. 
I  admire  the  candor  of  j^our  mind,  which  is  ever  stepping 
forth  as  the  advocate  of  yowv  friends,  although  I  may  oc- 
casionall}^  drop  from  that  stand  in  your  friendship  which  it 
would  be  my  pride  to  maintain  ;  it  is  a  persuasion,  which  1 
can  never  relinquish,  that  the  wanderings  of  m}^  heart  ma}' 
be  reclaimed  in  an  instant.  Your  letters  are  under  my  pil- 
low ;  I  bind  them  to  me  as  phylacteries,  and  I  attentively 
watch  for  a  moment  of  leisure  to  acknowledge  them.  Mur- 
ray, should  3'ou  pass  out  of  time  before  me,  I  should  expe- 
rience some  exquisitely  painful  sensations.  Oh,  may  you 
be  for  a  long  time  to  come  invulnerable  to  the  shafts  sji 
disease  !  Yet  why  should  I  wish  to  turn  the  dart  that  ^.-'11 
give  3'ou  passport  to  a  life  of  bliss  and  inmiortaiity  —  you 
who  agonize  at  the  present  state  of  existence.-'  No,  i:t  m'* 
neither  accelerate  nor  retard,  even  by  a  wish,  that  period 
of  humanity,  but  invoke  our  common  Father,  that  we  iiiay 
be  strengthened  by  the  way,  and  with  faith  ani  patience 
quietly  wait  the  expected  release.'' 

"  Your  letter,  mj^  dear  Murray,  is  Hkc  a  great  Tnaga::i:::e, 
full  of  instruction  and  entertainment.  Were  I  to  attetrpt 
to  give  it  due  and  just  consideration,  I  should  wiitc  a  vol- 
ume, and  probably  not  succeed  at  last.  Yov  say,  and  I 
believe  it,  that  we  shall  be  built  up  again  upon  '..  superior 
principle.  The  world  is  so  involved  in  the  •  zick'^.i  one, 
that  I  am  really  glad  to  find  any  one  willi.ig  x)  allow  the 
goodness  of  God  in  any  view;  it  is  at  'ef.st  ne  step 
toward  a  just  wa}^  of  thinking.  I  pray  ycu  tc  bj  vOntert 
with  your  present  standing  ;  you  are  too  ii  nrm  to  viol^  ."'a. 
from  home.     Where  you  speak,  you    a: 2   b^ard  bv   man'^ 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  391 

it.anfftrs,  who  enter  3'our  capital,  whom  j^ou  know  not, 
bat  wLo  hear  and  know  you ;  so  I  think  your  station  is 
clearly  pointed  out,  to  which  3"0U  do  well  to  adhere.  I  re- 
gret exceedingly  that  I  cannot  attend  j^our  expositions  of 
the  ceremonial  law,  in  which  I  understand  you  are  en- 
'^^.ged.  Those  laws  are  a  deep  and  rich  mine  of  instruc- 
tion. The  Scriptures  are  One,  like  a  great  Epic  ;  their 
action  is  One,  the  Restoration  of  a  lost  nature.  The  sub- 
ordinate parts  evidently  point  to  the  great  Head  and  Cap- 
tain of  our  salvation.  Go  on,  my  dear  sir,  and  may  you 
be  the  means  of  bringing  man}^  sons  to  glor3^  Allow  me 
^;  say,  3'ou  ought  to  write  more  frequentl}^ ;  jowy  diligence 
ard  activity  are  well  known  to  me  ;  but  it  seems  incum- 
Dtnt  upon  3'ou  to  give  the  world  3^our  explanations  of  the 
sacred  writings.  Yes,  I  repeat,  you  would  do  well  to  be- 
stow some  portion  of  3'our  time,  to  record  and  elucidate 
many  passagx^s,  which,  when  3-ou  are  gone,  ma3^  speak  for 
you. 

"  The  event  )f  3^our  death,  however  dreaded,  must  be  met 
by  the  greater  part  of  3'our  hearers  ;  and,  although  the3^ 
ma3^  naA'e  remaining  to  them  the  sacred  writings,  3^et  3'ou 
are  awar:  that  a  preach*  r  is  necessaiy.  I  have  compared 
you  to  some  of  the  general  elements  of  life,  whose  good 
and  salubiious  existences  .ire  not  known  until  they  are  lost. 
I  considfci  you  employed  in  .emoving  the  scales  from  the 
darkened  eye,  fortif3'ing  "the  timid  mind  against  the 
5.pproaC'iii;xg  dissolution  of  nature,  securing  it  from  the 
blandialj2ieiitg  of  delusion,  and  leading  it  to  arm  against 
the  terrors  oi'  cal.^^Tcity  and  pain.  I  m3^self  am  indebted  to 
you  iu  LaiidrtC.s  of  instances  for  light,  and  most  important 
information.  I  need  aot  repeat  my  best  wishes  to  3'Ou  ; 
%\<cv   present    di-mseVes   to   me    in   full,    whenever   3^our 


392  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

memory  occurs  to  me.  I  feel  that  it  is  hereafter,  when  you 
and  I  are  liberated,  that  I  shall  derive  a  part  of  my  happi- 
ness from  the  perfection  of  your  friendship.  May  the  least 
and  lightest  pains  infest  you  here.  This  is  the  utmost  a 
mortal  dare  wish  or  request. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  sir,  I  am  now  sensible  of  the  value  of 
existence  ;  and  the  assurance  of  immortality  has  become 
my  greatest  happiness.  The  time  was,  when,  to  m}^  serious 
moments,  immortality  appeared  garbed  in  horror.  Many 
a  time  have  I  wished  I  had  never  been  born  ;  but  —  blessed 
change  !  —  I  can  now  perceive  that  light  which  shined  in  me, 
even  then,  although  my  darkness  comprehended  it  not; 
but,  blessed  be  God  !  my  ej^es  are  at  length  opened.  Oh  ! 
may  God  all-gracious  watch  over  you,  and  preserve  you 
from  every  evil !  The  Almighty  in  great  mercy  hath  loaned 
you  to  a  benighted  world.  May  the  rich  blessing  be  long 
continued." 

"  Gratitude,  dear  and  honored  sir,  calls  upon  me  to 
acknowledge  my  great  obligations  for  the  glorious  declara- 
tion of  those  important  truths,  of  which,  until  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  Mr.  Murray,  I  was  entirely  ignorant. 
From  thai  blessed  era  I  date  the  commencement  of  my 
terrestrial  felicit3^  It  is  to  3'ou  as  an  instrument  I  am 
indebted  for  a  glimpse  of  the  beautiful  harmon}^  of  the 
sacred  writings.  I  can  now  behold,  with  devout  admira- 
tion, the  great  salvation  promised  us  by  the  word,  b}''  the 
OATH  of  Jehovah,  in  that  hol}^  book  which,  altliough  pos- 
sessed by  man}^,  is  neither  understood  nor  valued,  except 
by  a  few  elected  individuals.  I  much  wish  for  3'our  con- 
tinued instruction;  and  I  know  you  take  pleasure  in  con- 
sidering it  your  duty  to  impart  3'our  knowledge  of  the 
Redeemer  to  the  creatures  whom  he  hath  purchased  with  his 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY  393 

blood.  "S^'oul(l  it  were  the  will  of  God  to  give  3'ou  a  per- 
manent standing  among  the  circle  of  my  friends,  who  are 
so  greatly  devoted  to  you  I  Then,  dear  sir,  would  our 
heaven  be  commenced  u[)on  earth,  and  all  would  be  one 
continued  scene  of  uninterrupted  praises  and  thanksgiving 
for  the  great  redemption  wrought  out  by  the  death  and 
sufferings  of  our  blessed  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ." 

"  Murray,  how  greatly  you  succeed,  when  engaged  upon 
a  theme  which  I  emphatically  call  your  own  !  I  love  to 
hear  vou  speak  upon  anv  subject ;  but  on  this  you  are,  I 
had  almost  said,  divine.  Your  whole  soul  seems  engaged 
when  dwelling  upon  the  Redeemer  and  his  love  to  man. 
Nothing  but  the  A'oice  of  the  God  who  made  you,  and  who 
bath  so  wonderfully  endowed  you.  can  exceed  the  honeyed 
accents  of  your  Heaven-inspired  tongue.  Do  you  wonder 
that  I  am  daily  wishing  myself  among  the  number  of  your 
hearers,  your  happy  hearers  ?  But  how  contrasted  is  the 
life  of  a  soldier  to  that  of  the  peaceful  Christian  seated  at 
the  feet  of  Jesus  !  " 

A  respectable  gentleman  writing,  nearly  two  ycfirs  since, 
from  the  citv  of  Philadelphia,  and  speaking  relatively  to  the 
recent  publication  of  the  venerable,  the  now  departed 
saint,  gratefully  says  :  '•  These  volumes,  your  ■  Letters  and 
Sketches,'  are  all  I  hoped  for,  wished,  or  expected  :  they 
are  much  more.  I  bless  God.  not  only  for  the  treasures  of 
wisdom  committed  to  his  venerable  servant,  but  also  that 
his  valuable  life  has  been  preserved  to  accomplish  this 
work,  —  a  production  which  will  live,  and  be  read  with 
ineffable  delight  when  the  rubbish  of  ages  shall  have  been 
consigned  to  oblivion." 

Should  any  curiosity  exist  respecting  Mr.  Murray's 
political  sentiments,  it  may  be  sufficient  to  say,  that  he  was 


394  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY, 

in  heart  an  American.  America  was  the  country  of  his 
adoption.  He  was  decidedly  and  uniformly  opposed  to  the 
oppression  of  the  British  ministry,  and  he  would  have 
embraced  any  upright  measures  to  have  procured  redress  ; 
yet,  perhaps,  he  would  have  been  as  well  pleased  had 
England  and  America  been  united  upon  terms  of  equalit}' 
and  reciprocal  benefit.  Nor  can  it  be  denied  that  he  was, 
indubitably,  an  Anti-Gallican.  In  our  opinion,  a  total 
dereliction  of  countiy  stamps  miscreant  upon  the  individual 
who  harbors  feelings  so  reprehensible.  England  was  the 
native  country  of  the  preacher.  The  virtues  flourished  in 
his  bosom,  among  which  the  amor  patrice  glowed  with  no 
common  lustre.  He  frequently  amused  himself  with  writ- 
ing in  numbers,  which,  so  soon  as  written,  he  generally 
committed  to  the  flames.  The  following  inartificial  lines, 
written  one  hour  after  he  received  intelligence  of  the  demise 
of  the  celebrated  and  meritorious  Earl  of  Chatham,  may  be 
considered  as  a  correct  delineation  of  his  political  views 
and  wishes  :  — 

Swift  on  the  car  of  fancy  borne  along, 
And  safely  landed  on  my  native  Isle, 
I  join  tlie  mourning  train  assembled  there. 
And  stand  unnoticed  near  the  hallowed  corse. 
I  mark  the  empty  pageantry  of  state,  — 
A  pageantry,  alas  1  not  empty  here. 
For  here  are  real  signs  of  real  woe ; 
All  ranks,  all  orders,  mingle  in  the  throng; 
Some  raise  the  voice  in  majesty  of  woe ; 
Some  silent  stand  as  statues  —  pale  with  grief— 
At  sight  of  these  my  tears  more  copious  flow. 

Hark  I  —  from  yon  seat  a  voice  assails  my  ear, 
Than  music  in  its  softest  strains  more  sweet. 
'Tis  Camden  !  favored  sage,  exalted  chief, 
He  calls  his  mourning  country  to  attend, 
As  thus  he  pours  the  elegiac  strain. 


LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  395 

"  From  Iife'<s  low  vale  where  all  was  calm  repose, 
And.  taught  by  Heaven,  the  mind  drank  classic  lore, 
To  tne  tumultuous  scenes  of  busy  life, 
This  peerless  man,  in  hour  of  dread  dismay, 
By  pitying  Heaven,  in  mercy  to  our  land, 
Was  summoned  forth.    He  gracious  heard  and  came, 
Hailed  by  Britannia's  united  voice. 
His  royal  master  looked  benignly  kind, 
And  bade  him  welcome  to  his  arms,  his  heart; 
For  howsoe'er  remote  their  varied  spheres. 
Congenial  souls,  'twould  seem,  informed  them  both. 

"  No  longer  viewed  as  servant,  but  as  friend, 
In  all  his  sovereign's  councils  he  had  part. 
Their  hopes  and  fears,  their  aims  and  ends,  the  same. 
The  nation  gave  her  treasures  to  his  care. 
Himself  the  richest  treasure  she  possessed; 
And  anxious  eyes  from  every  rank  were  raised, 
With  serious  awe,  and  steadfast  hope,  to  him; 
Nor  were  their  hopes,  their  expectations,  vain. 
New  life,  new  views,  fresh  vigor  nerved  his  arm; 
All  that  was  wrong  his  vigilance  set  right, 
And,  what  was  greater  far,  preserved  it  so. 
The  foes  he  met  (for  who  from  foes  is  free  ?) 
Were, to  the  peerless  jewel  of  his  worth, 
Like  toiling  lapidary  to  the  costly  gem,  — 
They  made  its  brightness  more  conspicuous  shine. 

*'  The  fawning  sycophant  oft  sought  his  smile. 
But  piercing  eye-beams  struck  the  caitiff  blind; 
The  foes  to  virtue  trembled  at  his  nod, 
While  her  glad  sons  flocked  hovering  round  their  sire. 
The  merchant  watched  his  eye ;  the  sons  of  art, 
The  swain  who  turns  the  glebe,  but  chiefly  he 
On  glory  bent,  who  ploughed  the  watery  way, 
Panting  to  grasp  the  treasures  of  the  globe, 
He  carefully  this  pole-star  still  observed, 
And  safely  voyaged,  with  this  star  in  view. 
How  wild,  alas  1  he'll  wander,  now  'tis  hid. 

"  The  secrets  of  all  states,  blest  heaven-taught  sage^ 
To  thy  pervading  eye  were  all  unveiled. 
And  every  dark  intrigue  was  known  to  thee. 
The  Gallic  power  trembled  at  thy  nod, 


396  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

And  proud  Castalia,  cowering,  bent  to  thee. 

In  dire  suspense  the  awe-struck  nations  stood, 

Nor  could  predict  where  next  would  burst  the  storai* 

"  Lo  I  as  he  points,  our  castles  float  along, 
And  British  thunders  roll  from  shore  to  shore; 
The  sooty  tribes  of  Afric  shrink  appalled, 
And  China's  crafty  sons  distrust  their  skill. 

*  In  this  great  legislator's  hand,  our  flag. 
Like  that  famed  wand  into  a  serpent  changed, 
As  Hebrew  sages  sung  in  days  of  yore, 
Made  every  other  flag  obsequious  bow. 
And  every  nation  owned  or  felt  his  power. 
But,  while  remotest  lands  through  fear  obeyed, 
His  grateful  country  served  with  filial  love. 
And  every  son  of  Albion  shared  his  care. 

"  Nor  did  the  British  garden,  blooming  round, 
Alone  engage  the  heavenly  laborer's  toil; 
With  watchful  eye  he  viewed  those  tender  shootll, 
Whilom  transplanted  to  Columbia's  soil : 
Those  tender  lambs  be  gently  led  along, 
And  to  their  plaints  still  bent  a  parent's  ear. 
Dear,  much  loved  offspring  of  this  happy  Isle  I 
With  us,  sincere,  ye  mourn  the  common  loss ; 
With  us  lament  the  father  and  the  friend. 

"  But  while  our  bursting  hearts  deplore  his  flig^^. 
Perfidious  Bourbon  ghastly  grins  his  joy; 
The  Gallic  cock  now  feebly  claps  his  wings, 
And  thinks  to  hear  the  lion  roar  no  more. 
Base,  treacherous,  cringing,  dastard  slaves,  fcpwarel 
Although  our  sun  be  set  to  rise  no  more. 
The  moon  and  stars  shall  guide  the  lion's  paw 
To  seize  thee  tremblii.g  in  thy  close  retreat. 
Already  mark  !  he  shakes  his  shaggy  mane, 
And  growling  rises  from  his  murky  den ; 
His  eyeballs  roll  with  rage  —  they  shoot  forth  flames; 
He  grinds  his  teeth,  and  finds  them  solid  still; 
He  tries  his  paws,  aud  finds  his  talons  strong. 
Our  groans  have  roused  him ;  see,  he  sleeps  no  more, 
But  still  the  royal  issue    f  this  isle. 
This  highly  favored  regent  of  the  mair. 
Secure  may  stiiud,  nor  fear  the  lion's  rage. 


LIhE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY,  397 

*'  What  though  the  Demons  of  this  land  may  strive 
To  set  the  generous  lion  on  her  sons, 
The  lion  shrinks,  —  so  ancient  bards  declare,  — 
Nor  will  destroy  the  issue  nobly  born. 
But  those  perfidious,  who  would  set  him  on, 
"With  ghastly  looks,  and  souls  appalled  by  fear, 
Too  late  shall  feel  the  horrors  of  despair." 

But  it  is  the  Religionist  we  are  solicitous  to  char- 
acterize. And  although  the  sentiments  of  the  preacher 
may  be  gathered  from  his  writings,  yet,  as  this  volume 
may  come  under  the  eye  of  some  individuals  who  may  not 
possess  the  publication  to  which  we  have  so  often  alluded, 
it  may  be  proper  in  this  place  to  attempt  a  brief  outline  of 
the  most  prominent  features  in  his  creed. 

His  full  soul  believed  in  one  great  and  indivisible  First 
Cause  or  origin  of  all  created  beings  ;  before  this  great 
First  Cause  one  eternal  now,  was,  is,  and  will  be 
EVER  PRESENT.  Everything  which  has  passed,  is  passing, 
or  shall  pass,  was  ordained  in  his  eternal  purpose,  and 
actually  passed  in  review  before  him,  ere  ever  the  worlds 
were  formed,  or  countless  systems  commenced  their  rev- 
olutions. 

The  God  of  our  philanthropist  was  omnipotent,  omni- 
present, and  omniscient  ;  consequentl}^  he  performed  all 
his  will ;  was,  is,  and  will  be,  present  through  all  space, 
through  time,  and  through  eternit3\  In  the  prosecution  of 
his  plans  mj-riads  of  angels,  in  their  various  orders,  were 
by  his  omnipotent  power  commanded  into  being ;  these 
cherubim  and  seraphim,  angels  and  archangels  surrounded 
the  throne  of  the  Most  High.  The  morning  stars  sang 
together  and  all  the  hosts  of  heaven  rejoiced. 

But,  strange  as  it  may  appear  to  our  finite  understanding, 
fell   discord,  with   peace-destroying   influence,    reared   his 


398  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY. 

hydra,  his  tremendous  head.  Various  conjectures  hover 
round  this  phenomenon.  The  origin  of  evil  has  exercised 
intellects  the  most  profound  and  erudite ;  but  he  who  can 
develop  the  arcana  of  the  Almighty  ma}^  claim  equality 
with  his  God.  It  should  be  our  care  not  to  attribute  to 
Deity  a  mode  of  conduct  irreconcilable  with  rectitude  ; 
and  to  keep  close  to  that  revelation  which  he  hath  gra- 
ciously vouchsafed  to  bestow  upon  us. 

The  creation  of  man  succeeded  the  fall  of  the  angelic 
nature.  God  said,  Lei  Us  make  man,  etc.,  etc.  Speak- 
ing in  the  plural,  with  an  e3^e  to  the  complexity  of  that 
character  he  had  predetermined  to  assume,  and,  as  we  be- 
fore observed,  past^  present,  and  future,  constituted,  the 
token  of  Deity,  one  complete  whole ;  and  thus  were  im- 
portant occurrences  garbed  in  language  suited  to  the 
elevation  of  the  Godhead.  In  process  of  time  this  august 
Creator  was  to  be  enrobed  in  humanity  and  become  the 
Son  born ;  was  to  be  exhibited  as  a  holy  spirit  of  consola- 
tion, taking  of  the  things  of  Jesus,  and  exhibiting  them  to 
the  mind  ;  thus  speaking  peace.  Mr.  Murray  was  at  the 
same  time  a  Unitarian  and  a  Trinitarian,  beholding, 
constantly  beholding,  the  trinity  in  the  unit}".  Let  us 
make  man  in  our  image  after  our  own  likeness.  Tea, 
veril}",  man  ma}^  be  considered  as  made  in  the  image,  and 
after  the  likeness  of  his  Creator.  The  figure  is  striking: 
man  is  a  triune  being,  bod}",  soul,  and  spirit,  j-et  no  indi- 
vidual is  considered  as  three  but  one  man,  the  Trinity  and 
Unity.  The  Almight}",  clad  in  garments  of  flesh,  became 
the  God-Man,  and,  speaking  of  himself  as  man,  he  says, 
My  Father  is  gi'eater  than  I ;  while,  reverting  to  the 
divinit}",  he  affirms  the  Father  and  He  are  One.  ''Philip, 
have  I  been  so  long  with  thee,  and  dost  thou  say.  Show  me 


LIFE    OF  EEV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  399 

the  Father?  He  who  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the  Father." 
Was  this  true,  —  or  was  Jesus  Christ  an  impostor?  In  this 
view  the  Scriptures  are  beautifully  consistent.  "'  I  am  God 
THE  Saviour  ;  a  just  God  and  a  Saviour ;  there  is  none 
BESIDE  ME."  This  samc  evangelical  prophet  exultingly 
exclaims,  Isaiah  ix.  6  :  '•  Unto  us  a  child  is  born,  unto 
us  a  son  is  given,  his  name  shall  be  called  Wonderful, 
Counsellor,  the  mighty  God,  the  everlasting  Father,  the 
Prince  of  Peace."  Such  were  the  comprehensive  views  of 
Deit}^  which  became  more  and  more  luminous  to  the  mental 
eye  of  the  preacher. 

He  believed  that  the  creation  of  human  beings  made  a 
part  of  the  divine  purpose  ;  in  which  sacred,  uncontrollable, 
and  irreversible  purpose,  the  whole  family  of  man  were 
originally  and  intimately'  united  to  their  august  Creator, 
in  a  manner  mysterious,  and  as  much  beyond  our  limited 
conception  as  the  Creator  is  superior  to  the  creature  whom 
he  hath  formed. 

Adam  the  first  was  a  figure  of  Adam  the  second.  Adam 
the  first,  the  prototype ;  Adam  the  second,  the  substance 
of  the  prototj'pe,  the  Creator  of  all  worlds,  the  Lord  from 
heaven.  The  sacred  Scriptures  abound  with  figures  of  this 
mj'sterious,  this  ennobling,  this  soul-satisfying  Union  ; 
among  which  perhaps  none  is  more  expressive  than  that 
of  the  Head  and  Members  constituting  one  body,  of  which 
Jesus  Christ  was  the  immaculate  Head.  Hence  the  pro- 
priety and  necessity  of  looking  with  a  single  eye  to  Jesus 
Christ.  We  are  members  of  the  bod}^  of  Christ,  who  is  the 
head  of  every  man.  Should  a  single  member  of  this  mys- 
tical bod}'  be  finally  lost,  the  Redeemer  must,  through 
eternity,  remain  imperfect. 

A  law  was  given,  to  the  complete  obedience  of  which  ever- 


400  LIFE    OF  REV.    JORN  MURRAY. 

lasting  life  was  annexed  ;  but  no  individual  member  was 
ever  able  to  fulfil  this  law.  It  was  only  the  head  and 
members  collectively  in  their  glorious  Head,  that  was 
furnished  with  abilities  adequate  to  a  performance  of  such 
vast  magnitude.  Yea,  verily,  we  do  indeed  break  the 
divine  law,  in  thought,  in  word,  and  in  deed,  and  the  lip 
of  truth  declares,  he  who  offends  in  one  point  is  guilty 
of  all. 

Wh}',  then,  was  the  commandment  so  exceeding  broad? 
To  convince  mankind  of  imbecility  ;  and  that  the  rectitude 
they  had  forfeited  could  never,  in  their  own  individual 
characters,  be  regained.  But  the  plan  of  Deity  was  with- 
out an  error ;  the  revolution  of  time  ushered  in  the  great 
Representative,  or,  more  properly  speaking,  the  Head  of 
the  body ;  and  the  forfeit  was  paid,  full  atonement  was 
presented,  the  ransom  given,  and,  in  this  hour  of  nature's 
JUBILEE,  the  prodigal  family  restored  to  their  original 
possessor. 

To  make  this  truth  manifest  was  the  great  business  of 
our  promulgator.  He  was  convinced  that  only  he  who 
believed  could  be  saved ;  and  that  he  who  believed  not 
was  indubitably  damned.  Hence  he  has  frequently  said, 
he  did  not  believe  in  universal  salvation,  because  he  saw 
the  majority  of  mankind  were  not  saved.  But  he  was  a 
firm  believer  in  Universal  Redemption  ;  because  that 
sacred  volume,  which  he  steadfastly  and  unwaveringly 
believed  to  be  the  word  of  God,  assured  him  the  price  was 
paid,  and  the  whole  human  family  was  redeemed. 

It  was  the  neglecting  to  distinguish  between  salvation 
and  redemption,  which  so  frequently  drew  upon  the  preacher 
the  charge  of  prevarication,  or,  as  it  was  termed  by  Mr. 
Croswell,  hiding.     An  article  of  intelligence  may  be  an 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  401 

established  fact ;  it  may  most  importantly  affect  us;  but  so 
long  as  the  mind  refuses  to  admit  its  authenticity,  we  are 
undeniably  subjected  to  all  those  agonizing  apprehensions 
which  we  should  endure  if  no  such  fact  existed.  And  it 
was  the  salvation  from  these  mental  sufferings  which  Mr. 
Murraj^  supposed  consequent  upon  a  preached  gospel ;  in 
other  words,  an  exemption  from  those  tortures,  that  con- 
sciousness of  condemnation  which  is  most  emphatically 
described  when  it  is  said,  He  who  believeth  not,  is,  or 
shall  be  damned. 

Yet  it  is  an  established  truth,  that  ever}'-  believer  was 
once  an  unbeliever ;  every  believer,  then,  was  once  damned^ 
and  it  was  only  when  he  became  a  believer  that  he  vjas 
saved  from  those  countless  agonies,  which  erst  times 
pierced  him  through  with  many  sorrows.  But  he  was  re- 
deemed-) the  price  was  paid  ere  ever  he  was  called  into 
existence.  Thus,  in  this  view,  redemption  and  salvation 
are  distinct  considerations. 

The  preacher  unhesitatingly  believed,  all  vfholearned  of 
the  Father  would  come  to  Jesus,  and  that  all  would  finally 
be  tan  gilt  of  God.  He  was  a  decided  believer  in  the  doctrine 
of  angels  of  light,  and  angels  of  darkness,  of  ministering 
spirits  of  light,  and  of  demons  stimulating  to  deeds  of 
darkness.  He  looked  forward  to  a  judgment  to  come, 
w^hen  countless  numbers  among  the  children  of  men  would 
rise  to  the  resurrection  of  damnation,  and,  ignorant  of  the 
genuine  character  of  the  Redeemer,  would  call  upon  the 
rocks  and  mountains  to  fall  upon  them  and  hide  them  from 
the  WRATH  OF  THE  Lamb  ;  and,  believing  himself  a  humble 
instrument  in  the  hand  of  God,  ordained  by  him  to  the 
ministr}^  of  reconciliation,  he  was  never  so  completel}' 
happy  as  when  declaring  the  gospel  to  be  believed  ;  and 
26 


402  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

calling  upon  men  everywhere  to  receive  the  glad  tidings 
of  salvation.  He  was  persuaded  that  those  who  laid  down  in 
sorrow  would  continue  unhappy  wanderers,  until  the  open- 
ing of  that  book,  in  which  every  human  being,  every  member 
of  Christ,  was  written ;  yet  he  had  no  idea  of  any  pur- 
gation for  sin,  save  what  was  suffered  by  Christ  Jesus,  lolio^ 
by  himself,  purged  our  sins.  Writing  of  Mr.  Winchester  to 
a  friend,  Mr.  Murra}^  thus  expressed  himself:  "  Mr.  Win- 
chester is  full  with  Mr.  Law,  and  of  course  preaches  pur- 
gatorial satisfaction.  According  to  these  gentlemen,  every 
man  must  finally  be  his  own  Saviour  !  If  I  must  suffer  as 
much  in  my  own  person  as  will  satisfy  divine  justice,  how 
is  or  can  Christ  Jesus  be  my  Saviour?  If  this  purgatorial 
doctrine  be  true,  the  ministry  of  reconciliation  committed 
to  the  apostles  must  be  false :  '  to  wit,  God  was  in  Christ 
reconciling  the  world  unto  himself  not  imputing  unto  them 
their  trespasses.*  In  fact,  I  know  no  persons  further  from 
Christianity,  genuine  Christianit}^,  than  such  Universal- 
ists." 

Mr.  Murray  supposed  the  inquietude  of  unembodied  or 
departed  spirits  a  natural  effect  derived  from  a  cause.  As 
unbelievers,  they  cannot  see  the  things  which  belong  to 
their  peace ;  but  he  greatly  rejoiced  that,  however  at 
present  enveloped  in  darkness,  there  were,  and  are,  things 
that  did  and  do  belong  to  their  peace;  that  the  day  cometh, 
when  whatsoever  is  hid  shall  be  revealed;  and  that  at  the 
period  of  the  restitution  of  all  things  the  word,  the  oath 
of  Jehovah  was  pledged,  that  every  eye  should  see  and 
every  tongue  confess.  The  preacher  w^as  persuaded  that 
a  few  even  in  the  present  dispensation  were  elected  out 
of  the  world  to  embrace  the  truth  previous  to  their  passing 
out  of  time.     These  judging  themselves,  are,  therefore,  not 


LIFE   OF  REV,   JOHN  MURRAY.  403 

to  be  judged.  Saints  of  God,  they  shall  surround  the  Re- 
deemer at  his  second  coming,  or  be  caught  up  in  the  air 
to  meet  the  God-Man  ;  after  which  the  whole  world  shall 
be  summoned  at  the  imperial  bar  of  the  Sire  of  angels  and 
of  men,  the  Creator  of  all  worlds.  That  a  separation  will 
then  take  place  ;  the  Judge,  the  Redeemer,  will  divide  them 
as  a  shepherd  divides  his  sheep  from  the  goats ;  will  separ- 
ate every  individual  from  that  body  of  sin  and  death  of 
which  Paul  complained,  being  burdened  ;  from  that  fallen 
spirit  which  attaches  to  every  individual  in  such  sort  as 
to  the  man  among  the  tombs,  rendering  it  a  truth,  that  he 
who  sleepeth  apparently  alone  upon  his  bed  is,  nevertheless, 
still  connected  with  his  tormentor,  and  will  so  continue 
until  this  glorious  da}"  of  separation  and  of  restitution; 
when  these  two  shall  be  separated  one  from  another,  the 
one  taken,  the  other  left.  The  fallen  angels,  figured  by  the 
goats,  shall  be  ranged  on  the  left  hand,  while  the  harassed 
human  nature,  redeemed  b}^  the  God  who  created  it,  shall 
be  found  on  the  right  hand  of  the  Most  High.  Thus, 
after  the  world  is  judged  out  of  the  things  written  in  the 
books  ;  after  they  are  found  guilt}-  before  God,  and  every 
mouth  is  stopped,  the  book  of  life  shall  be  opened,  in 

WHICH  ALL  THE  MEMBERS  OF  THE  REDEEMER,  EVERT  IN- 
DIVIDUAL OF  THE  Human  Family,  shall  be  found  writ- 
ten ;  and  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord  shall  be  declared 
denizens  of  that  kingdom  where  dwelleth  felicity  uninter- 
rupted. 

Such  were  the  leading  sentiments  of  Our  Universalist  ; 
and  he  was  firmly  of  opinion  that  the  doctrines  of  the 
gospel,  rightly  understood,  would  teach  men  everywhere 
to   be    careful  of  maintaining    good   works,    to   love   one 


404  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

another,  and  in  all  things  to  regard  the  best  interests  of 
their  brother  man.* 

*  The  following  is  quoted  from  the  "  Letters  and  Sketches,"  as  Mr.  Murray's 
selection  of  some  of  the  scriptural  vouchers  of  his  beliefs,  and  as  proving  "  All 
the  sacred  writers  Uuiversalists  "  :  — 

ALL    THE    SACRED    WRITERS    UNIVERSALISTS. 

I  have  no  doctrine  but  the  doctrine  taught  by  God  the  Saviour.  I  reject 
every  doctrine  which  the  mouth  of  the  Lord  hath  not  spoken.  The  apostolic 
churches  were  formed  by  professors  of  the  doctrine  of  universal  redemption. 
Jesus  Christ  and  his  apostles  preached  and  defendeil  this  doctrine.  All  the 
writers  of  Revelation  were  strong  in  the  faithlul  belief  of  the  doctrine  of  univer- 
sal salvation;  so  saith  the  Apostle  Peter,  when  speaking  of  the  world's  Re- 
deemer. "  The  heavens  must  receive  him,  until  the  restitution  of  all  things, 
which  God  hath  spoken  of  by  the  mouth  of  all  his  holy  prophets,  ever  since  the 
world  began."  How  much  is  contained  in  this  single  testimony  of  the  apostle  I 
Yes,  indeed,  God  blessed  Abraham,  and  said,  "  In  thee  shall  all  nations  of  the 
earth  be  blessed." 

Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob  believed  God,  and  were  therefore  Universalists. 
"  And  the  Lord  said,  I  have  pardoned  according  to  thy  word.  But  as  truly  as  I 
live,  all  the  earth  shall  be  filled  with  the  glory  of  the  Lord."  Numbers  xiv.  20, 21. 
Moses  believed  God,  and  was  therefore  a  Universalist. 

"  A_ll  the  ends  ot  the  world  shall  remember,  and  turn  unto  the  Lord,  and  all 
the  kindred  of  tlie  nations  shall  worship  before  thee,  for  the  kingdom  is  the 
Lord's.  All  they  that  go  down  to  the  dust  shall  bow  before  him."  Psalm  xxli. 
27,  28,  29.    "  Let  the  people  praise  thee,  O  God,  let  all  the  people  praise  thee." 

"  AH  nations  shall  call  him  blessed,  and  let  the  whole  earth  be  filled  with  his 
glory.    Amen,  and  amen."    Psalm  Ixxii.  8,  17,  19. 

"All  nations  whom  thou  hast  made  shall  come  and  worship  before  thee,  0 
Lord,  and  shall  glorify  thy  name."    Psalm  Ixxxvi.  9. 

"  M7  mouth  shall  speak  the  praise  of  the  Lord,  and  let  all  flesh  bless  his  holy 
name  forever  and  ever."    Psalm  cxlv.  21. 

Thus  it  appears  that  the  royal  prophet  was  a  strong  Universalist. 

"  They  shall  not  hurt  nor  destroy  in  all  my  holy  mountain;  for  the  earth  shall 
be  full  of  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord,  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea.'-  Isaiah  xi.  9. 
"  And  in  this  mountain  shall  the  Lord  of  hosts  make  unto  all  people  a  feast  of 
fat  things.  And  he  will  destroy  in  this  mountain  the  face  of  the  covering  casl 
over  all  people ;  the  veil  that  is  spread  over  all  nations  ;  he  will  swallow  up  deatb 
in  victory.  And  the  Lord  God  will  wipe  away  tears  from  off  all  faces ;  and  tlu 
rebuke  of  his  people  will  he  take  from  off  all  the  earth,  for  the  mouth  of  the  Lore 
hath  spoken  it."    xxx.  6,  8. 

All  this,  no  doubt,  Isaiah  fully  believed.  Isaiah,  therefore,  was  a  Universalist 

"  Behold  the  days  come,  saith  the  Lord,  that  1  will  perform  tliat  good  thing 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHX  MURRAY.  405 

Conversant  with  the  preacher  upwards  of  fort}^  3'ears,  we 
never  knew  his  testimony  to  var}-  in  the  smallest  degree. 
In  jo3^  and  in  sorrow,  in  health,  in  sickness,  and  in  death, 

which  I  have  promised  to  the  house  of  Israel,  and  to  the  house  of  Judah."    See 
also  Jer.  xxxi.  31,  34. 

Jeremiah,  in  full  assurance  that  God  would  perform  what  he  promised,  was 
unquestionably  a  Universalist. 

"  When  thy  sister  Sodum  and  her  daughters  shall  return  to  their  former 
estate,  and  Samaria  and  her  daughters  shall  return  to  their  former  estate,  then 
thou  and  thy  daughters  shall  return  to  thy  former  estate."    Ezekiel  xvi.  55. 

Sodom  and  her  daughters  were  those  who  suffered  the  vengeance  of  eternal 
fire.  But  the  Prophet  Ezekiel,  being  a  Universalist,  was  persuaded  they  would 
not  be  eternaUi/  suffering  the  vengeance  of  eternal  fire. 

"  Pharaoh  shall  see  them,  and  be  comforted  over  all  his  multitude;  even  Pha- 
raoh and  all  his  army  slain  by  the  sword,  saith  the  Lord."    Ezekiel  xxxii.  31. 

"  Then  will  I  sprinkle  clean  water  upon  you,  and  you  shall  be  clean  from  all 
your  filthiness,  and  from  all  your  idols  will  I  cleanse  you.  Then  the  heathen 
that  are  left  round  about  you  shall  know  that  I  the  Lord  build  the  ruined 
places."     Ezekiel  xxxvi.  25,  3G. 

Thus  we  see  Ezekiel,  in  declaring  the  salvation  of  Jew  and  heathen,  was  a 
Universalist. 

"  Seventy  weeks  are  determined  upon  thy  people,  and  upon  thy  holy  city,  to 
finish  the  transgression,  and  to  make  an  end  of  sin,  and  to  make  reconciliation 
for  iniquity,  and  to  bring  in  everlasting  righteousness."  Daniel  ix.  24.  Surely 
Daniel  was  a  very  strong  Universalist. 

•  Yet  the  number  of  the  children  of  Israel  shall  be  as  the  sand  of  the  sea-shore 
that  cannot  be  measured  or  numbered ;  and  it  shall  come  to  pass,  that  in  the  place 
where  it  was  said  unto  them,  ye  are  not  my  j>eople,  there  it  shall  be  said  unto 
them,  ye  are  the  sons  of  the  living  God."  Hosea  i.  10.  "And  I  will  sow  her 
unto  me  in  the  eartli,  and  I  will  have  mercy  on  her  that  had  not  obtained  mercy, 
and  I  will  say  to  them  which  were  not  my  people,  thou  art  my  people,  and  they 
shall  say,  thou  art  my  God."    Hosea  ii.  23.    Was  net  Hosea  a  Universalist  ? 

"  And  it  shall  come  to  pass  afterwards,  that  I  will  pour  out  my  Spirit  upon  all 
flesh,"  etc.  Joel  ii.  28.  "For  I  will  cleanse  their  blood,  that  I  have  not 
cleansed."    Joel  iii.  21. 

"  In  that  day  I  will  raise  up  the  tabernacle  of  David,  that  is  fallen,  and  close 
up  the  breaches  thereof,  that  they  mav  possess  the  remnant  of  all  Edom,  and  of 
the  heathen,  which  are  called  by  my  name,  saith  the  Lord,  that  doeth  this." 
Amos  ix.  11, 12. 

"  And  Saviours  shall  come  upon  Mount  Zion,  to  judge  the  mount  of  Esau,  and 
the  kingdom  shall  be  the  Lord's."    Obadiah,  21. 

"  And  he  shall  judge  among  many  people,  and  rebuke  strong  nations  afar  off, 
and  they  shall  beat  their  swords  into  ploughshares,  and  their  spears  into  prun> 


406  LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY, 

not  a  single  cloud  appeared  to  gather  upon  the  countenance 
of  his  God,  or  to  obstruct,  so  far  as  it  referred  to  his  pros- 
pects beyond  the  grave,  the  clear  sunshine  of  his  soul. 

If  we  except  the  Rev.  John  Tyler,  Episcopalian  minister 
in  Norwich,  Connecticut,  and  the  Rev.  Edward  Mitchell,  in 
the  city  of  New  York,  we  do  not  know  that  the  sentiments 


ing-hooks.  Nation  shall  not  lift  up  a  sword  against  nation,  neither  shall  they 
learn  war  any  more.  But  they  shall  sit  every  man  under  his  vine  and  under  his 
fig-tree,  and  none  shall  make  them  afraid;  for  the  mouth  of  the  Lord  hath 
spoken  it."  Micah  iv.  3,  4.  "  He  will  turn  again,  he  will  have  compassion  upon 
us,  he  will  subdue  all  our  iniquities,  and  thou  wilt  cast  all  our  sins  into  the  depths 
of  the  sea.  Thou  wilt  perform  the  truth  to  Jacob,  and  the  mercy  to  Abraham, 
which  thou  hast  sworn  unto  our  fathers  from  the  days  of  old."  Micah  vii.  19, 
20.    Thus,  it  is  plain,  the  prophets  were  all  Universal ists. 

But  the  angels  of  God  are  also  Universalists.  Let  us  listen  to  those  messen- 
gers of  heaven,  while  addressing  the  wondering  shepherds  of  Judea.  "  And  the 
angel  said  unto  them.  Fear  not,  behold  I  bring  you  good  tidings  of  great  joy, 
which  shall  be  to  all  people.  And  suddenly  there  was  with  the  angels  a  multitude 
of  the  heavenly  host,  praising  God,  and  saying.  Glory  be  to  God  in  the  highest, 
and  on  earth,  peace  and  good-will  towards  men."    Luke  ii.  10,  14. 

Th-  devout  Simeon  was  a  Universalist.  "  For  mine  eyes  have  seen  thy  sal- 
vation, which  thou  hast  prepared  before  the  face  of  all  people,  a  light  to  lighten 
the  Gentiles,  and  the  glory  of  thy  people  Israel."    Luke  ii.  .30,  31,  32. 

But  that  we  may  ascertain  what  all  the  evangelists  and  all  the  apostle* 
were,  in  one  view,  let  us  hear  the  sentiments  of  our  Saviour  himself  upon  thi* 
subject.  "  For  I  have  given  unto  them  the  words  which  thou  gavest  me, 
and  they  have  received  them."  John  xvii.  8.  "  For  I  have  not  spoken  of  my- 
self, but  the  Father  which  sent  me ;  he  gave  me  a  commandment  what  I  should 
say,  and  what  I  should  speak,  and  I  know  that  this  commandment  is  life  everlast- 
ing. Whatsoever  I  speak,  therefore,  even  as  the  Father  said  unto  me,  so  I 
speak."    John  xii.49,  50.    See,  also,  ver.  .32. 

Let  us  now  attend  to  the  ministry  committed  to  the  apostles.  "  God  was  in 
Christ,  reconciling  the  world  unto  himself,  not  imputing  unto  them  their  trt^ 
passes  "  2  Corinthians,  ver.  19.  "  And  he  shall  send  Jesus  Christ,  who  before 
was  preached  unto  you,  whom  the  heavens  must  receive  until  the  times  of  the 
restitution  of  all  things,  which  God  hath  spoken  by  the  mouth  of  all  his  holy 
prophets,  ever  since  the  world  began."    Acts  iii.  21. 

It  is  plain,  from  these  testimonies,  and  many  more  which  might  be  adduced, 
that  the  doctrine  of  Universalism  is  the  doctrine  of  God  our  Saviour;  and  while 
the  Universalists  can  produce  so  many  illustrious  vouchers,  they  never  can  be 
discomforted,  or  even  embarrassed.  —  Letters,  etc.,  ii.  422-425. 


THE  GRAVE  OF  :,IURRAY 


LIFE    OF  REV.    JOHN  MURRAY.  407 

of  any  preacher  of  Universalism  now  upon  this  continent 
are  exactly  in  unison  with  the  departed  promulgator.  But 
if  the}'  build  upon  the  great  foundation,  we  deA'outly  wish 
them  God-speed  ;  well  assured  that  those  who  build  upon 
this  foundation — "gold,  silver,  precious  stones,  wood, 
haj",  stubble  —  ever}-  man's  work  shall  be  made  manifest. 
For  the  da}'  shall  declare  it,  because  it  shall  be  revealed  b}^ 
fire ;  and  the  fire  shall  try  ever}'  man's  work,  of  what  sort 
it  is.  If  any  man's  work  abide  which  he  hath  built  there- 
upon, he  shall  receive  a  reward.  If  any  man's  work  shall 
be  burnt,  he  shall  sufi'er  loss,  but  he  himself  shall  be 
saved  ;  yet  so  as  by  fire." 

Mr.  Murray's  last  marriage  was  the  result  of  a  strong 
and  holy  friendship,  founded  upon  the  Rock  of  Ages  ;  and, 
originating  in  devout  admiration  of  redeeming  love,  it  is 
fervently  hoped,  and  unwaveringly  believed,  that  this  union 
will  be  perfected  in  another  and  a  better  world. 

One  son  and  one  daughter  were  the  ofi'spring  of  this 
marriage.  The  son  surrendered  his  innocent  life  in  the 
birth.  The  daughter  still  survives,  the  prop  and  consola- 
tion of  her  WIDOWED  mother.  * 


*  We  quote  from  Whittemore's  "  Life  of  Ballou,"  the  account  of  Mr.  Murray's 
re-burial  in  1837 :  — 

"  The  deeply  interesting  event  of  the  removal  of  the  remains  of  Rev.  John 
Murray  to  Mount  Auburn  took  place  on  June  8th.  From  the  year  1815  the  body 
had  mouldered  in  the  Sargent  tomb,  in  the  Granary  Burying-ground  in  Boston, 
without  a  stone  or  inscription  of  any  kind,  to  denote  that  the  ashes  of  the  man 
who  had  stirred  the  country  with  the  tidings  of  universal  love  were  resting 
there.  Thi  means  for  the  purchase  of  a  lot  at  Mount  Auburn,  and  the  erection 
of  a  monument  had  been  raised  by  the  voluntary  contributions  of  Universalists, 
and  everything  had  been  made  ready  for  the  reception  of  all  that  was  left  of  the 
body  of  the  animating  preacher.  About  a  week  before  the  re-burial,  the  coffin 
was  removed  from  the  tomb  to  the  vestry  of  the  First  Universalist  Church, 
where  it  was  covered  neatly  with  black  broadcloth,  and  a  plate  affixed,  bearing 
the  inscription,  '  Rev.  John  Murray,  died  Sept.  3,  1815,  aged  seventy-four.'    This 


408  LIFE    OF   REV.    JOHN  MURRAY. 

coffin  was  placed  directly  in  front  of  the  pulpit  from  which  Murray  had  so  ofteu 
spoken  the  words  of  eternal  life.  At  two  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  the  eighth 
of  June,  the  doors  were  thrown  open,  when  the  spacious  and  venerable  edifice 
was  immediately  filled,  for  an  immense  crowd  had  been  in  waiting  to  enter. 
The  pews  in  the  broad  aisle  were  reserved  for  the  members  of  the  Massachusetts- 
Convention  of  Universalists,  who  had  been  in  session  on  the  previous  day  at 
Maiden;  and  for  a  few  of  the  companions  of  Murray  in  his  early  labors  in  Bos- 
ton, who  still  lingered  on  earth.  The  immense  auditory,  the  striking  portrait  of 
Murray  hanging  in  front  of  the  pulpit,  the  black  drapery,  the  tears  of  the  aged 
who  remembered  the  man,  and  of  the  middle-aged  and  young  who  had  heard  of 
him,  but,  above  all,  the  mute  coffin  shrouded  in  black,  —  all  conspired  to  make 
the  scene  deeply  impressive.  The  choir  rose  and  sung,  *  The  Lord  is  risen 
indeed.  He  burst  the  bars  of  death,  and  triumphed  o'er  the  grave,'  etc.  Then 
jjrayer  was  offered  by  an  aged  clergyman  (Rev.  Joshua  Flagg),  who  had  been  a 
fellow-laborer  with  the  departed.  An  eloquent  discourse  was  preached  by  Rev. 
Sebastian  Streeter,  from  the  following  appropriate  words:  '  And  the  bones  of 
Joseph,  which  the  children  of  Israel  brought  up  out  of  Egypt,  buried  they  in 
Shechem,  in  a  parcel  of  ground  which  Jacob  bought  of  the  sons  of  Hamor,  the 
father  of  Shethem,  for  a  hundred  pieces  of  silver :  and  it  became  the  inheritance 
of  the  children  of  Joseph.'  Joshua  xxiv.  32.  The  sermon  was  very  impressive. 
The  speaker  was  deeply  touched  with  his  subject,  and  frequently  gave  vent  to  his 
feelings  in  bursts  of  impassioned  eloquence.  At  the  close  of  services  a  move- 
ment took  place  towards  Mount  Auburn.  Scores  of  chaises  and  light  carriages 
proceeded  directly  to  the  spot,  while  the  funeral  procession  was  being  formed. 
Fifty-two  hackney  coaches  followed  the  hearse,  containing  the  members  of  the 
convention  and  the  leading  Universalists  of  Boston  and  the  vicinity;  and  after 
these  came  a  large  number  of  barouches,  the  whole  forming  a  procession  of 
more  than  two-thirds  of  a  mile  in  extent.  Arrived  at  the  gate  of  the  cemetery, 
although  a  drizzling  rain  was  falling,  the  procession  was  formed  on  foot,  and 
moved  to  the  grave.  Standing  on  the  very  verge  thereof.  Father  Ballon,  at  the 
request  of  his  brethren,  delivered  an  impressive  address. 

"At  the  close  the  speaker  lifted  up  his  voice  in  thanksgiving  and  prayer,  —  in 
thanksgiving,  that  God  had  blessed  this  land  with  the  labors  of  John  Murray, 
and  that  the  cause  which  that  eminent  man  had  espoused  in  its  infancy  had  been 
prospered  abundantly  under  the  smiles  of  a  benignant  Providence;  in  prayer, 
that  God  might  bless  the  solemn  services  of  the  day  to  the  moral  Improvement 
of  all  who  were  present.  And  then,  after  a  benediction,  the  immense  crowd 
dispersed  to  their  homes."  —  G.  L.  D. 


